


Taming The Dragon

by iDiru



Series: Taming The Dragon verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Gore, Brief Sastiel, But they still speak the same, Dragon!Castiel, Dragons, Gen, I Tried, M/M, Mpreg, Nudity, Possibly OOC, Set in fictional medieval times, Very close Sam and Dean, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 57,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, along with his brother Sam, is a dragon slayer; hunting dragons for sport and coin. Usually their life is pretty straight forward, but Dean comes to hunt a rare dragon that will change his view on the species forever. A dragon who's finally outsmarted the great Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Art at the end of this chapter, please stand by.

                Dragons; great, winged beasts that could cause infinite destruction, or none at all. Ones with wings and bodies large enough to blot out the sun, others smaller than a house cat. Dragons varied, but despite their well-known existence, little was known about just what made these monsters tick. But in all honesty, no one really bothered to find it. Because in this day and age, no one cared about the benefits of what dragons might have been able to help with. These great beasts were hunted for sport, and their parts sold for profit. They were still known as dangerous beasts, and some of which required the most skilled hunters, but it was all in a day’s work for them. Some were rare, while others were common. But the story begins here with one of the rarest.

 

                Enter Dean, last name Winchester. The oldest known son of two, whose parents were both dead. Their father killed hunting, and their mother dying in a house fire due to a dragon attack. With his brother Sam, they were some of the better hunters in all the land. Not the best, but they were still good. Dean was seated at home, a bit uncomfortably on the wooden chair, being warmed by the fire in the hearth that lid a good majority of the room. Though uncomfortable, he had nearly nodded off when he heard the door swing open, and the sound of a heavy sack hitting the ground. Heavy and…mildly squishy. Dean cracked an eye open to see Sam standing in the door way, hair messy and body hugged with leather and chainmail. There were unidentified things in that thick hair of his; blood and possibly some sort of entrails. His outfit was stained as well, as were parts of his face and skin, overlaying the sheen of sweat sticking to his body. The sack he set upon the floor was leaking blood, but it wasn’t the first time the two of them had come in and thrown their prize in the nearest available spot.

“Good hunt?”

“Yeah, guess so.” Sam responded, wiping a brow. “Nothing special though. But hey, I saw something weird on the way back.”

“Weird how?” Dean asked, feeling curious. He sat forward in his chair, ears eager to listen to his brother’s story.

“I was near that strange foggy place…Around the mountains. You know, the one where you can’t really see shit?”

“Yeah, I get it, go on.”

“Well, I was near the bottom of the mountains, and I saw this…strange, strange thing. Looked like a dragon; big, big dragon. But it was weird…Didn’t have the usual leathery wings. I’m talking like, bird wings. It saw me and took off; could have easily killed me right there but I guess it didn’t feel like bothering me. I could barely see it; just through the fog. These glowing, bright blue eyes and the shape of it’s body as it took off into the sky, up the mountain. Those wings were feathered.”

“I call bullshit.”

“I’m serious, Dean, why would I lie?”

“So, what, you gonna go after it?”

Sam shook his head, “Nah. I’ve done enough hunting for a while. This should fetch a fair price here.”

“What is it you were even hunting?”

“Wyvern. So you gonna go after it or not?”

“What, you just want me outta the house or somethin’?”

“No, but one of us should go after that thing.”

Dean sighed, standing from the chair. “I’ll look into it. I swear if you’re just sending me on some ridiculous wild goose chase…”

“I swear.” Sam responded, leaving his booty there on the floor as he headed off further into the house. They talked idly as he headed into the bath house; a bare room with little flooring and a square porcelain pool in the center, and a space underneath to set the fire. Set in the corner, where wood turned to dirt, was a very conveniently placed well. Sam set about drawing the water up with the bucket, dumping it into the small pool as he spoke.

“So, you’ve never heard of anything like it? Dad never said anything?” Sam asked.

“He might of when we were kids, I don’t remember…”

Their father, John, had always been a skilled hunter. He hunted many a dragon, ranging from rare to common. He would tell them of his hunts occasionally, and somewhere there was a journal of all of the dragons he’d bested, but Dean had no idea where that was. The brothers were young when John died; Dean was in his early teens, and at that point made his living off of hunting and various other jobs so that he could care for Sam. It took them quite a while to get to where they were now… They still lived fairly meagerly, but at least they lived.

 

Dean had been lost in thought, sitting upon the wide edge of the tub when Sam finally finished filling the bath, starting a fire soon after and shifting it beneath the tub in a metal and wooden shovel-like object.

“I might’ve seen something in the library the other day while you were out,” Sam said, setting about unbuckling his grieves and bracers, letting them fall to the floor before he finished speaking. “A collection of sketches. Not the journal though, unfortunately.”

With a sigh of discontent, the younger brother worked at the rest of his clothes, unbuckling the sword harness from around his chest before peeling off the upper half, letting out a huff of relief as the hot armor pulled away from his damp skin. After unbuckling his boots he set about untying his pants, before he was finally free of all things clothing.

“Gross…” Dean said, squinting at him. Referring to the blood, and bits of who knows what, not the nudity. “God, it’s everywhere.”

“Messy battle…” Sam said, climbing into the tub and settling there momentarily to rest his weary limbs.

“So…sketches,” Dean said, as he stood from the side of the tub and drew up some more water from the well, setting it near the edge of the tub before sitting back down. “Is it like a book, or…?”

“More of a folder,”

“I’ll look for it in a minute,” Dean mumbled before pulling the bucket back to him. “Lean your head back.”

“You know I can do that myself, right?”

“That’s what you said last time this happened. Come on.”

Sam groaned and leaned his head back, looking back at Dean with annoyance, who only seemed to be amused. There had been a few times when Sam had gotten in a messy battle before; getting bits of gunk in his hair that refused to come out. Sticking relentlessly to the long strands he refused to cut too much. He would spend hours working through his hair, it seemed, and would still come out with pieces that he would find later. The last few times, Dean had decided to help him, however much he protested.

 

Without warning, Dean started pouring the water over his hair, using careful balance to hold the bucket in one hand while he worked his fingers through the tangled locks. Sam visibly tensed up, gasping in surprise.

“Fucking asshole, that’s freezing…”

“Well, yeah, it’s from the well.”

Sam merely sulked for the remainder of the time, until Dean found his job was sufficient enough. Rinsing his bloodied, sticky fingers in the now tepid water, he stood. “You finish up, I’m going to find that book. You better not be shitting me…” Dean grumbled slightly, as he headed off.

 

                The library was a tiny room, with a few bookshelves and a desk; hardly a library, but they had to call it something. Dean wasn’t sure why he was so worked up about this. He’d been itching for a hunt, ever since that fateful day, just about a month ago. Dean had been injured, fairly badly. He’d been stuck around the house, waiting for Sam day in and day out, it seemed like. He’d healed about a week ago, but so far he hadn’t found much of interest to hunt. He wasn’t interested in wyverns or drakes. He wanted to go after big game. Sam was lucky to have procured such treasures from such a common dragon, but knowing Dean, he wouldn’t be so lucky.

                He rifled along the books, looking for anything folder-like, mind still wandering. If Sam was right, Dean would love to hunt this thing. He hadn’t heard of a feathered dragon before. The ones here were all reptilian. Was it foreign; having flown from some far off land? He pulled a dusty folder from the shelf, hidden between two unused books. Pieces of paper protruded from its edges, looking old and worn. Dean quickly opened the folder, fingers running along the pages. There inside were sketches, from someone unknown. This wasn’t his father’s work; his father’s sketches were subpar. These came from someone else. Someone with more talent…

 

                It was pretty standard stuff; sketches of dragons and their names. Some of them he recognized, some of them he didn’t right off hand, but it was nothing what like Sam had described. He was about to give up, when he flipped the last page, and there was something without a name. It was merely marked with a series of question marks, but above it was similar to what Sam had described. A darkly colored, scaled beast with feathered wings diverging from its shoulder blades. Long tendrils extended from it’s skull, and it’s eyes seemed to glow, as Sam had explained. Fangs were overextended past it’s lower jaw. Horns jutted from behind two long flaps which Dean assumed were ears. It’s jaw, head, back, and tail were covered dotted with spikes, and it’s nose seemed to hook slightly into a beak. By God, Sam _wasn’t_ lying. But how would he know what he was up against? He had nothing to go by; no tomes of knowledge, no journals, no nothing…Dean had one final plan.

 

                It was mere moments before Dean was pulling his boots on and stumbling out the door in his haste, sketch still tight in his hand. He made his way through the dusty dirt streets. The area was scarcely illuminated by the torches and braziers. He stumbled again slightly up the steps of the tavern, body moving too quickly for his mind to comprehend. With equal amount of haste he pushed through the doors, finding the all familiar men and women sitting at various tables, dimly lit by candle light and torch. He was panting a bit by the time he got there, having run so suddenly. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean was very excited.

 

                A good majority of the patrons gazed up from their drink and conversation as he entered, a warm smile on their faces.

“Dean! Haven’t seen you in a while, where’ve you been?” asked a man sitting at the nearest table. If memory served him correctly, his name was Bartholomew; a fairly good hunter. He’d had his fair share of battles. Though he was aged, about mid-forties, he still put up a fight. His hair was ginger, mussed and tangled where it wasn’t hanging down in thick braids. Green eye peering out at him while the other was covered by a patch, where a thick, jagged scar ran through. Dean was lucky to have run into him first.

“Hurt, remember? Hey, you think you can help me?” Dean said, straightening the sketch out.

“With?”

“I was-,” Dean had to think this over. He had to word things carefully; this was his prey. He couldn’t reveal it’s possible location, or that it even existed. “I was looking through a few old dragon sketches in my house, and I found this,” Dean said, scooting onto the bench next to him and laying out the paper. “It has no name…Do you know what this is? It looks like it’d be a hell of a hunting target.”

 

                Bartholomew took a swig from his tankard before setting it back down, looking closely over the sketch. His eyes widened, surprise evident on his face.

“That’s a thing of legend you’ve got right there…” he whispered, voice gruffer now that it was lowered. “A dragon so rare it doesn’t even have a name. There have been sightings, there have been battles…but few of these have ever been killed.”

“Can you tell me anything about it?”

“Well…” he said, stroking at his scruffy ginger beard. “Not much is known about them. Then don’t appear to be too incredibly strong. It’s their minds that are dangerous. They’re incredibly smart and cunning. It’s rumored they’re a master of the elements and have powers we can’t even comprehend. They’re not particularly aggressive, though. The fact that not many of them have been taken down seems to be that they’re too smart. They escape. They like to avoid confrontation, but if you challenge them, they will fight. This is what I’ve heard. But none of this can be said for certain. No one’s even sure that this beast exists…”

 

                Dean looked thoughtfully down at the paper laid out in front of him before rolling it up, clutching it in his hand again before standing.

“Thank you, Bartholomew.”

\---

                It was another few days before Dean was setting off into the world again. A sword holster strapped to his back, and a heavily modified firearm holstered to his thigh, beneath the lower part of his cuirass. He was dressed in his usual; black leather armor, studded with silver. It was far tougher than it looked. It probably wasn’t the best, but Dean relied more on strength and agility than defense. Heavier armor would just slow him down; possibly get him killed. His head was left bare for visibility purposes. To anyone who didn’t know the two of them, they’d probably be branded as insane or stupid, as Sam had the same tactics as Dean.

 

                He gave a brief hug to his brother before setting off, after having gotten the location from him. He sure hoped he was right… It would take him quite a while to get there. Quite a while indeed; Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking over the rough terrain before he started seeing the familiar mountain fog. Dean had always been fascinated and confused by it; less so than Sam, though. It danced with varying colors as it drifted upon the ground, though it made things harder to see. After some time, Dean was feeling around carefully with every step, gripping at every rock as he climbed the barely there path. Fog still danced in front of him, and he wasn’t quite sure how far or how high he’d gone, but he was staring to lose hope. This had been a bit of a stupid idea, now that he thought of it. Fighting a dragon he knew nothing about, on a mountain that was almost impossible to see. Dean was highly considering turning back now… But no, he couldn’t. Not after he spent nights staying up, planning and scheming for this hunt. He was not about to turn back now.

 

                He felt along the rocks as he prepared to move on, gripping a higher one tightly in his fist and climbing up a very steep, yet very small cliff. A small bit of nervousness built in his belly as he felt the rocks shift and break away beneath his boots, crumbling and cracking as they hit the ground. He let out a breath, wiping his brown and looking about, before he froze. He had heard something; a deep, hissing rumble. Air, in and out…breathing. Very deep, very loud breathing coming from something very large. He used stealth, barely moving as he gazed around, until he caught the shape of something very large off in the fog.

 

                With the utmost care, he drew the sword from his sheath, hoping to sneak up on the beast. Dean wasn’t even sure this was the right dragon, but it was in the right location, and it was also in the way if not. Dean swore he’d made absolutely no noise, but as his sword was removed, the breathing stopped. The figure shifted, and Dean still wasn’t sure what he was in for. Until he saw light; two bright, glowing eyes shining through the fog, and the faint outline of what looked like a massive reptilian face. With a slow, lazy movement, he watched as it moved again. Through the fog he could see wings; great, feathered, massive wings spreading from it’s body. It gave out a sharp hiss, and Dean could see the massive teeth within it’s open maw, just well enough through the fog. He had found his target, and he _would_ be bringing it home. No matter what.

 

_**ART** _

_**Dean** _

_**** _

 

_**Sam** _

 

 

_**** _


	2. Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the end of this chapter, stay tuned

                Staring into that dragon’s eyes was like staring into another world; it filled him with fear; a fear he shouldn’t have. Dean had been hunting dragons for some time, normally not scared of them, but as the beast rose up, head bent to stare at him with it’s maw hung open, snarling and hissing, Dean was scared. The glow of those eyes bore into his soul; looked at him with an intensity he’d never felt on the battle field. He was stricken, unable to move for a moment, before he narrowly had to dodge the beast’s spiked tail as it turned. It was off and running, not using its wings at the moment. Adrenaline kicked in at this point; he was not going to lose his prey.

                For the next few, almost agonizing moments, Dean’s limbs worked feverously as he climbed along the rocks, listening to them shift beneath his feet. He narrowly avoided the blinding shots of what appeared to be pure energy that shot from the dragon’s throat, strangely enough beginning to dissipate some of the fog. It was when the dragon finally stopped that Dean felt that fear again. They were on a more level playing field now; Dean saw through the fog that the ground was even and not so rocky, or elevated. Almost as though it was putting on a show, the dragon turned slowly, a low growl in its throat as those illuminated eyes bore straight into him again.

 

                Wings raised high, the beast stood, and then they began to beat hard against the air, levitating its massive body into the air. The quick current of air began to push away the fog, and it made Dean feel as though he was trapped in a tornado. Dean paused briefly to watch it, finally eyeing his prize with little interference. As it was in the book; dark and scaled, with great, black feathered wings extending from its body. The tendrils jutting from its cranium, the stark contrast from black to white scales on its underside.

 

                Thanking God that he had sheathed his sword before running off, Dean ran forward before the beast had the chance to get off the ground. He’d done this before; from afar, it looked stupid, but he knew what he was doing. Gripping at its tail, he sunk his nails between the scales, using his legs as leverage to push off the ground, grinding his boots into the tail as he reached forward, grabbing at the dragon’s long spikes and using them as a ladder. The beast hissed and roared at him, shaking its tail to try to dislodge him, but Dean barely managed to hold on. He managed to climb the beast until he was near its neck, narrowly avoiding the flapping feathers that nearly sent him hurdling to the ground. He gripped at the scales and spikes with one hand, bracing with his boots firmly planted at the base of it’s spine.

 

                Drawing the sword from his back, he shifted quickly to grip onto the side of the dragon’s jaw, practically gripping at the inside of its mouth. It snapped at him, thrashing and panicking until he saw his opening. The beast opened its maw, all teeth and saliva. Dean sent the sword forward, up into its mouth. Unfortunately, he missed, sending the sword through the front of its upper jaw, sending it through the roof of its mouth and though its nostril. The shriek of pain it gave out was almost deafening. A screeching roar that descended into a rough, pained growl. He drew back, attempting to stab it higher, but the beast slung it’s head and sent the blade through its cheek. Slicing down the side of its mouth and leaving a deep, bleeding gash. It hissed again in pain, slinging it’s head and catching Dean off guard. He began to fall, and in attempt to hold on, he sunk the blade deep into its shoulder. It jerked again, and Dean was dislodged, merely holding onto the handle of the sword as a means to not fall, dragging it down and leaving a deep gash

 

                A sudden jerk backwards sent Dean falling, hitting the ground hard as he looked up at the bleeding beast, its mouth split and its nose bleeding, while its bones lay exposed in its chest. Luckily, the fall wasn’t as long as he thought. He was sore when he shifted into a sitting position, just as dragon turned to fly off into the distance. He drew his firearm quickly, firing at it as it left. Hitting it in the thigh, then the wing. He took off after it, thanking God again that he was on flatter ground at the moment, finding it easier to chase the wounded creature. It was flying back into the fog, but he saw it’s shape disappear into something much larger; an entrance of some sort.

 

                He ran forward, climbing over a few loose boulders and heading into the entrance. It was a large expanse, but he saw nothing. But for the moment, he was dumbstruck. The entire cave was glowing, sparkling with a blue energy that ran through the very rocks themselves. He stepped forward, admiring the area, but that would be his undoing. There was a loud cracking, shifting noise, and the light from behind him began to fade out. He wheeled around in haste, panic in his gut as he saw the entrance he had come through previously gone, and near it was the dragon. It’s clawed hand on the ground near it, energy practically radiating, visibly, from the clawed appendage. It growled at him again, low and deep as it bore its teeth at him. Firearm still in his hand, he aimed and fired, but before it could hit the dragon’s tail came forth and whipped it from his hand. Dean was effectively weaponless.

 

                He did what instinct told him; he ran. He had no clue where he was running, just running blind. Blinding blues buzzing past him as he narrowly avoided the glowing pillars, suddenly hitting a dead end with a loud smack. He was breathing heavily when he turned around next, seeing the beast right behind him. It hissed, growled at him, snarled and bore its teeth but instead of attacking, it merely brought its hand down hard upon the ground, moments before stone rose from the ground itself, creating a wall in front of him.

 

For a moment he was left stunned, merely staring at stone. Why hadn’t it killed him? At first, he was just scared and stunned, but that fear turned to anger.

“Let me out of here, you stupid son of a bitch!” he shouted, pounding on the wall. “If you’re gonna kill me, just do it!”

He didn’t know why he was trying to bargain with a damn animal… He huffed in anger, leaning against the stone before there was a sudden noise on the other side. A clattering, scraping sound followed by the sounds of panicked, shaky breathing. A panicked sob before it faded into nothingness; only the sound of scraping fading into the distance. What the hell was that…? Who else was here in this cave, besides he and the dragon?

 

**ART**

**'THE DRAGON':**

****

 

****


	3. Above Average Intelligence

 

                Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been locked in that ‘room’, eyes barely open as he struggled to stay awake. That thing could come back any time. At this point Dean was considering cutting his losses and running; getting the hell out of there and never looking back. It was better than being killed. The problem was, he had no clue _how_ to get out. Dean was also in no shape to fight, if he needed to though. He was tired, hungry, kind of had to use the bathroom, and he figured this would all pose a problem trying to fight a massive dragon.

 

                The stones in front of the ‘entrance’ area suddenly receded, revealing the beast standing behind it with half of a dead cow clenched in its jaws. It opened its mouth and the dead bovine fell with a sickening, wet thud as the exposed entrails splashed along the stone.

“The hell am I supposed to do with this?” Dean asked, annoyance in his tone. “What the hell do you want? You wanna kill me or feed me?”

The dragon did something Dean didn’t expect; it nodded, motioning its head towards the dead cow. It…it wanted to feed him? That left another set of questions in his mind…This thing understood human speech? Understood how to communicate? That was a first. Bartholomew had been right; these things were incredibly intelligent.

“I can’t eat this.” Dean responded. The dragon hissed in response, shifting the cow closer. Dean merely shook his head, “I’m not fucking eating this. Fuck off.”

 

                Instead of a hiss, the beast let out a roar that shook the cave, pushing forward and getting right in his face as it snapped it’s jaws, almost taking off his entire head.

“Fine, fine!” Dean shouted, backing away. In response, the dragon backed away as well, gesturing again with its head towards the meal. Dean slowly crept forward, lowering himself towards the cow. He grimaced, reaching forward as his hands entered the open cavity and pulling bits of unidentifiable meat from its carcass. His hands, covered with blood smelled coppery as he raised it to his mouth, sinking his teeth in. He gagged slightly but forced it down anyway. He needed his strength, and he needed to eat; he was pretty damn hungry. This wasn’t in the least bit appetizing, though.

 

                The dragon watched as he choked back bite after disgusting bite of raw cow until it was satisfied with whatever it was doing, and headed off, pulling the stones back in front of the entrance. Once he was in the clear, Dean backed away and huddled in the corner. He felt incredibly sick, but with the knowledge that this dragon didn’t seem to have the interest in killing him right now, he lulled into sleep.

                He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d slept before the burning in his throat alerted him that he needed to vomit, and he did so, finding it comprising of mostly blood and undigested raw flesh. The dragon took this time to enter once again, looking at him with silent inquiry, as though asking what was wrong.

“I can’t eat this damn cow, okay?!” Dean shouted. “Humans can’t eat raw meat! I’m fucking sick and I’m tired, and I have to go to the damn bathroom and I’m stuck in this stupid dead end, and I’m pissed off!”

Dean wasn’t sure why he’d said all of this, like it even mattered. But to his surprise, it did. With care that Dean didn’t know was possible, the beast took the collar of his armor in it’s teeth, yanking him forward. It frightened him at first, and he struggled, but it continued pulling him on anyway. He was lead deeper into the cave, until they came to an underground, running stream. This is where he dropped him.

“What do you want? Why the hell did you bring me here?” Dean asked, annoyed still. There was no way he could be entirely nice to this stupid beast; he was stuck here because of it.

 

                The dragon was still for a moment before heading over to the stream, gesturing to it again with a nod of its head.

“What’s so special about that? What do you want me to do?” In response, the dragon only gave out an annoyed noise, before degrading its self for the hunter. Stepping into the water, near where it lead out into an exit far too small for him to fit through, the dragon crouched down. It looked at him in what he could only imagine was annoyance, or pity, and then…disgustingly enough, urinated in front of him. From what, Dean didn’t know; he was not a connoisseur on dragon genitalia. But he understood what the beast was trying to get to him.

“You’re taking me to the bathroom…?”

Annoyed, the beast nodded and stepped out. Whatever it had excreted was already swept away by the flowing stream.

 

                Dean let out a huff of air as he tentatively stepped towards the water, looking to it, then the dragon before he started undoing his pants. It was at the point when they were half way down his groin that he noticed the creature was still watching.

“I can’t go with you watching…”

The dragon didn’t budge, but Dean decided it was best not to wait for it to, because they’d be there all night.

So that was how Dean ended up defecating in front of a dragon; this would be a fun story for the kids one day…It seemed completely unphased by the act, though.

                He cleaned up the best he could before yanking his pants back up and redoing them, glaring at the beast, “You happy? Now I’m guessing you’re going to take me back to that stupid dead end you call a room. Might as well go in peace, live out my days in solitude with some stupid dragon.” It’s response was to hiss in annoyance, but it merely shook it’s head before turning. Then it left… It walked somewhere further into the cave, and Dean didn’t bother to follow it. Instead he rushed off, looking for the exit, but once he found it he saw that it was still blocked. He slumped against the side of the wall and sighed, wondering if he’d ever get out of this stupid cave, with this stupid hospitable dragon.

\---

 

                Dean was losing track of days, but at least he was able to move around. He lived semi-normally. He ate, he slept, he drank and bathed from the part of the stream that wasn’t used as a toilet, and so on. The beast was kind enough to bring him food every so often, this time roasting it with its fire before he ate it. It would still leave bits raw, and sometimes he’d still get sick, but he had to deal. Dean more or less had free reign of the place, at least. He explored, without being murdered, and he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t dead but at least he wasn’t.

 

                The cave was huge, but well thought out. There were various nooks and crannies used as storage, mostly for stolen gold items and various treasures. But there were some areas he didn’t understand, right off hand. There were areas he noted that were blocked off; he could see the differences between regular stone and the stones that the dragon had raised now. But one day, as he was exploring, he found something particularly strange.

 

                Deep within the cave, in one of those strange, carved out looking rooms, were various things that seemed to be for a child. Carved toys, cribs, the like. He picked up one of the toys, finding it lovingly stitched and stuffed. It was some sort of crude bear. With the stuffed toy still in hand, he wandered over to the crib sitting in the corner, if it could be called a corner. There was an inscription, or rather a carving of sorts, on the front of it. It was hard to make out, but he could just make out what appeared to be a name. A fairly odd one at that. The word ‘Castiel’ was carved deep into the wood, and as he repeated the name he heard a sudden angry roar behind him. Teeth on his armor, and breath hot on his neck in and instant. The beast practically threw him away from the area, moving in front of him with an anger and fury he’d yet to see in the beast.

“The fuck is your problem?! Getting so worked up about some damn stolen goods!”

What the dragon did next surprised him, taking an aggressive stance it opened it’s mouth, but what came forth was not the usual. It was not a hiss, growl, snarl, screech, shriek, or anything of the sort. The sounds that fled from it’s maw were a deep rumbling “ _MINE!_ ”

                In shock from the words he just heard escape a beast that wasn’t supposed to speak, he was easily pushed forward by the vaguely beaked nose as it’s hand slammed down into the ground again to create a barrier. It continued to push him, shoving him towards a nearby column before speaking again.

“NEVER…AGAIN.”

Without another word, it turned at left, walking in a stance that signified anger and rage. Dean was left dumbstruck, staring as it left. This wasn’t normal, and it was sincerely making him rethink all of the choices he’d ever made in his life.

Dragons, the beasts who were just that; beasts. Mindless animals for the hunt…Was that really true? Here he had a dragon who not only understood the concept of language, but spoke it. He also wondered what the significance of those child-like items held towards this creature, and what had filled it with such sudden rage. Dean wasn’t sure if he could call this dragon a ‘stupid beast’ anymore, because that was one thing it clearly was not.

 

                It was added to a list of already growing mysteries. Why did this dragon speak? Why had he been captured, and why was he still alive? And just who was the other person being held captive here? Dean never forgot those panicked cries he heard from beyond the walls the first day he’d gotten there. Either way, he vowed to find them. It might just be the only source of human company he’d get in this place.


	4. The Beast and the Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the end, stay tuned

Dean concocted a plan, the day after the incident with the strange room full of children’s toys. If the dragon understood English, and could speak it, then perhaps they could come to some sort of agreement to let Dean out. Or at least Dean could apologize for stabbing it in the face; that was a start. Much to his dismay, the dragon was nowhere to be found, or he was at least avoiding him somehow. This only added to the growing mystery. The dragon was missing, but in addition to that, each day he looked for him he found something strange. There were drops and small trails of blood each day, fresh, leading to the stream. But each day he followed them he found nothing.

 

                Spending most of his time in a spare dead end, Dean contemplated just what was going on. He wasn’t sure if he was just missing the dragon, or whoever was bleeding near the stream, but something fishy was going on here. Where was this blood coming from? There was not enough to come from a dragon, unless it had just a tiny scratch, but a beast that large would never leave such trails. He knew that they would likely run down its body before falling, and there was just too much of it for that.

                So, was it this mysterious other person in the cave? And that left the other question; why were they bleeding? Why were they coming each day to the stream? Dean could never tell quite where the blood came from, as it seemed more prominent near the stream. The one and only day it ever did lead back to something else, it was a dead end. Dean had been nearly everywhere that wasn’t blocked off, though. How was he missing another person? Though, he hadn’t heard anything remotely human since that first day. Had the dragon killed them? Dean was thinking too much for his own good.

 

                He hadn’t eaten much yet that day, or for a while actually, since the dragon’s absence meant he was getting no sustenance, other than water. If he were able, he’d go out to hunt on his own, but he couldn’t. Dean had to rely on much more disgusting means. He had to rely on eating raw, catching the creatures that ran throughout the cave, be they rats or lizards. Wandering the cave in search of food, he managed to grab a passing blind lizard. He made quick work snapping its neck and sinking his teeth in, feeling a bit ashamed of what he had become, or what he was forced to become. His jaws were not for tearing apart meat like that of an animal; eating something like this was hard, and also tasted disgusting. He picked the meat he could from the bones, avoiding things like intestines, stomach, and liver. He had to be very careful about what he ate. He threw the carcass aside and wiped his mouth with his hand, tasting something terrible in his mouth. He’d managed to not avoid the stomach, unfortunately, having bit into it and having acid spray into his mouth.

 

                Disgusted, he realized a drink from the stream was in order. The blood was still there, fresh as ever; very fresh… Little droplets and big splatters, some of them streaks from where they may have been dragged by something. It was the same every day, but Dean was beginning to think it common now. He didn’t pay quite as much attention to it. He headed to where the stream was deepest, finding it easier to drink from there as it was closer. As he neared it, he found something was lurking beneath the surface. The problem with this cave was that despite the lights, it was still dark and he saw very little beneath the murky surface. Only a shape; perhaps something that had drifted in and accumulated in that spot. He stopped dead when bubbles began coming to the surface; something was down there.

 

                He narrowly avoided the splash of water that erupted, still getting a bit wet, when something did in fact burst from the surface. It was something human; vaguely human, anyway. Staring at him with almost gem-like blue eyes, pupils slit but still dilated. Horns and spikes jutting from a mass of sopping black hair that stuck to his forehead; it seemed male, anyway. Around those shimmering blue hues were black scales. The scales didn’t end there; from what he could see there was also two scaled, curved lines that mirrored each other on either side of his pectorals. Other than what seemed natural, he also had a few healing wounds; now fresh scars. Along the side of his face and down his chest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and he was definitely male, if the sparse amounts of facial hair didn’t tip him off before. His voice was rough and deep, which he didn’t quite expect from something so…pretty.

Dean stepped forward, confusion evident on his face. “Who…are you? Are you the other person in this cave?”

“What other person?” he asked, tilting his head a bit to the side.

“Another person- when I got here I heard something human…”

“That was me,” he responded.

Dean pursed his lips, looking over the man in the stream, who only looked back at him with concern. His eyes trailed along his body, feeling like there was something he was missing here… The scars; something familiar about those scars. One running down his shoulder and chest, the other as though the side of his mouth had been split.

“The dragon!” Dean suddenly exclaimed, excited at first but then his heart sank. “Oh no…”

“Yes, the dragon. You hurt me; very, very badly. It’s why I cried out like I did. I didn’t have the energy or concentration to maintain such a large form.”

 

                Much to the other man’s dismay, Dean sat down at the edge of the stream, forgetting for now about the bad taste in his mouth. This caused the other male to sink further into the water, almost with fear.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I never would’ve attacked if I’d…God, I’m so sorry.”

“Now that I have a human form? What difference does it make? You were attacking me. I had no choice. What was I supposed to do?” he said, raising up out of the water slightly, gripping at the stone around the stream. As his arms emerged, he noticed now that just below the elbow his skin turned to dark scales, and his fingers ended with sharp, black claws. He was looking at him now with great intensity, eyes burning like an azure flame. “I wouldn’t expect much else from someone like you, though. Not all of us are just stupid beasts.”

“Us?”

“Dragons.”

“Why haven’t you killed me, then? You’ve taken my weapons; I’m defenseless. What’s stopping you?” Dean almost wanted to smack himself for saying this; if he had forgotten, he surely remembered now.

“Because I _can’t_. It’s against our code.”

“The dragon code? I’ve seen plenty of dragons kill without hesitation.”

“No, _our_ code. It’s different. Our race, not just any other dragon. The more intelligent dragons all have their own codes…”

“Your race…? I didn’t know it was anything specific…”

“It’s called the Gassagen. A race that’s dying out because it wasn’t big to begin with, and then _you_ people happened. Believe it or not, we ruled at one point… Or rather, we kept to ourselves and we were left alone. Until _you_ people.”

“So what is your code?”

 

                The other male glared at him for a moment before glancing away, relaxing slightly. “Don’t kill unless absolutely necessary. That means don’t kill for sport. Kill for food, kill in self-defense. You’re defenseless now and there’s no reason to kill you. I’ve taken all your weapons.”

“So why am I still here?”

“Because I can’t let you go…”

“So, what, you plan to keep me in here forever?” Dean asked, leaning forward and his voice deepening with rage.

The other male bit down on his lip, and Dean saw the sharp teeth sinking into the slightly chapped skin. “I…I don’t know. You have to understand, letting you go would be a big risk. I’ll get one thing straight; I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you enough to not tell someone else where my home is. You have to understand, I am trying to survive… No matter how many times you can say you’d not reveal my location, I still can’t trust you. Until you earn my trust, you will go nowhere,” he said sternly. “And let it be known, if you somehow manage to kill me, it would be highly against your best interest. Without me, you will never get out. Only I can remove these barriers. Do you understand?”

 

                Dean was a bit angry; he felt slightly degraded, and pretty pissed that he was stuck here. But yelling at this dragon was not going to help his case. He had to make this creature trust him first… Then, when he was free, he would decide what he would do. But Dean had the feeling he could not reveal his location. Now that he knew he was sentient enough to be something remotely close to human, it would eat at his conscious too much if he had him killed. He had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from saying something stupid, or screaming at him.

 

                With his voice shaking somewhat with anger, he tried his best and as calmly as possible got out the words, “Can you at least tell me your name, if you have one?”

For some reason this seemed to make him shy, and he let go of the shore and sunk back into the water, leaning against it’s edge. “Castiel…”

“The name on the crib…was that yours? That’s why you got so mad?”

“…Yes. That and I was…moody. Generally I would not have been so angry, if not for that. But you also have to understand, this is the only thing I have left of my family and my childhood…”

Dean let out a laugh, “Dragons get moody?”

“I, uh…yes. Sometimes. I’d rather not talk about that, it’s personal.”

 

                Castiel cleared his throat and braced himself with his arms on the shore again, which seemed normal in itself, but there was a very startling fluttering noise and a rush of air, as he was slung with water. Dean saw now a pair of ebony, feathered wings sprouting from what seemed to be his shoulder blades. They were fairly massive, and so were the drops of water flying everywhere as he attempted to shake them dry.

 

                As he rose himself from the stream, Dean took notice of the rest of his body. The scales on his calves that reached all the way to his feet, dark like the others. Mirrored strips of black and grey on both his hips and his thighs, and a spikey tail that jutted from the back of him. But what was most strange was what was attached to his groin; which was to say, not much… The area was shrouded with black and silver scales, where a slightly protruding slit lay. Dean wasn’t going to question that; he assumed it was some kind of dragon thing… It did make him curious, though.

 

                Castiel folded his wings back so that they were covering his back half and started off, looking back at him briefly to speak.

“You’ll have to rely on yourself for food. I can’t hunt at the moment, as I can’t shift between forms. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t seek me out for the next few days. This is a very private time for me…Do you understand?”

“Not completely, but yes…”

“Good…” he said, and with that he headed off further into the cave, and Dean was left sitting there, forgetting why he came in the first place.

He began to concoct a plan; he would have to kill him with kindness, not with his usual violent nature. He had to be… _nice._

 

**ART  
**

 

**Castiel:**

 

****


	5. Manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: awkward conversations  
> awkward chapter all around  
> i am sorry.

               Despite the fact that Dean should hate Castiel, he was actually very curious about just how he worked. He wanted so badly to ask him questions, but unfortunately, half of those questions were not appropriate. Just because he was curious, though, didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed. He truly hated having to bite his tongue, and he hadn’t even seen Castiel in days. It didn’t help that he was extremely hungry. Dean didn’t understand why the dragon was being so secretive… What was _stopping_ him from shifting? He assumed it wasn’t just to starve Dean, as Castiel seemed to be starving himself, too.

 

                There were still a few great mysteries of this cave; the most of which now was why there was still those trails of blood all over the floor. It continued on for a few days. He noticed when he went to use the stream, or hunt for any small morsel of food. But one day, suddenly, it stopped. There was no more blood; only the remnants of dried, stained trails that had been there before. Dean was finding no food that day, unfortunately. So instead, he slept huddled up in some corner.

 

                He was awoken by the sound of a very damp thudding noise and the presence of sudden splashes of liquid on his body. His vision was bleary as he awoke, but he found himself face to face with a mass of entrails and blood, and the cavity of some unidentified animal carcass. He looked up briefly to see the beast form of the dragon standing there, having obviously dropped it for him. It was still raw, but at this point Dean didn’t care and he did something fairly shameful.

 

                He brought himself to a sitting position and feasted ravenously upon the raw flesh and meat. He was starving; he could eat anything. He hadn’t even noticed that Castiel was no longer in beast form at this point, only looking when he spoke.

“Don’t you need that cooked…?”

“No…” Dean said, between mouthfuls of blood and whatever else he was stuffing in there. He broke away momentarily to speak, “My stomach is training itself to eat raw, I think. Plus, I’m starving. But don’t think this is a regular occurrence. I still like my food cooked…”

He barely missed the glare that Castiel shot him before he went back to tearing the slightly gelatinous feeling meat from between bones, knowing what was muscle and meat, and what was organ. He wouldn’t go for the organs.

 

“I apologize not being able to hunt…It happens.” Castiel said, leaning against a nearby rock.

“Why is it you couldn’t hunt?” Dean asked, pulling away briefly as a string of sinew stretched from the meat and his teeth, and snapped damply. He was met by a frown, and a glance away.

“Reasons,” was all he said.

“Were you hurt?”

“…No,” he mumbled.

“That reminds me…” Dean said, finally setting down the carcass, which he identified as half a deer. “The blood in the cave-.”

“I don’t want to talk about that!” Castiel snapped suddenly. “It’s personal!”

“Alright!” Dean said, holding his hands up, “Sorry I asked. Just calm down.”

“Sorry…” Castiel mumbled, seeming to want to ditch the subject.

“Why are you in this form?” Dean inquired, looking at him thoughtfully. He was well aware that he was still covered in blood, and he desperately needed to go clean off, but any time to make this dragon trust him should be taken.

“Because I’ve grown to realize in my years of constant solitude…that I am lonely. The notion of some sort of…companionship has brought me here, instead of just leaving and letting you eat. I find it easier to communicate in this form. As a beast my mouth lacks the proper structure to form many words.”

“But you still spoke to me as a dragon…Why did you not just change?”

“At that point, I wanted to keep this form a secret. It seemed that you would be much more manageable if I were in the form of something powerful. I hadn’t intended to speak to you, but it happened. I needed to keep you away from there. However, I find now that you’re much more manageable when I’m in this form. Regardless, to the subject at hand, as I said…the notion of companionship draws me. Knowing now that you aren’t determined to murder me in my sleep somehow, I find that perhaps we can create something good of this. I can have something that I crave, and you can be spared of the insanity from all-consuming loneliness brought on by suddenly being suddenly cut off from all civilization, and having nothing remotely human to speak to.”

“How do you know I need companionship?” Dean retorted, more of a way to keep the conversation going and less of something condescending.

“Well, it is my general understanding that humans require some sort of companionship to thrive.”

“There’s some truth in that…” Dean responded, and feeling slightly drunk off food coma, he started off down a road that he probably shouldn’t go on.

“Cas, let me ask you a personal question…”

“It’d better not have anything to do with the blood.”

“No, no, I just…I’m sorry but I’m so curious. Do you uh…have a dick?”

 

                Castiel looked at him with a mild amount of shock in those slitted eyes of his, opening his mouth to speak, but a strained squeak of confusion was the only noise that emerged. “I…uh…yes,” he finally responded. Dean wasn’t sure if dragons could blush, but he noticed the other male looked a bit heated.

“I was just…curious, because you know, there’s nothing really…there.”

“Are you _looking?_ ” Castiel asked accusingly.

“No, no! But it’s fairly noticeable…” Dean should really learn to keep his mouth shut…

Castiel cleared his throat, crossing his legs a little, “I…To answer your question fully, yes; I’m pretty sure I have a…er, penis.”

Dean raised a brow, and he knew he should stop here, but his brain made him keep going. “ _Pretty sure_?”

“Well…yes.”

“So you don’t know?”

“I’ve never seen it…But I know it’s there.”

Dean gaped just slightly, looking at him stunned before closing his mouth. Swallowing, his eyes darting to the ground, and back to the other male, he spoke. “You…you’ve never seen it? How does that work?”

“I mean, I don’t…I haven’t really used it. It’s used for reproduction…I’ve never reproduced.”

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never had a stiffy?”

“No...Like I said, I’ve never reproduced.”

“Yeah but you’ve…you’ve never, you know…just gotten turned on?”

“Why would I?”

“Because…I don’t know, humans generally have urges. I don’t know if it’s different for you or not…”

“I don’t understand the concept of arousal without reproduction...I don’t know why we’re having this conversation, Dean.”

“Because I-…How do you know my name?”

“Mind reading is one of my fortes…”

“You’ve been reading my mind!?”

“Only for your name.”

 

                Dean nodded, then let out a sigh, “I’m sorry, Cas. It was out of line. My head’s a bit loopy from …sudden food, as weird as that sounds. It was too personal, but damn if I wasn’t curious.”

“It’s fine…I understand your curiosity.”

“So you’re willing to talk to me about your genitals but not the other thing?”

“Exactly. Leave the rest of it alone,” he said, almost in a scolding tone.

“So, if…if you don’t get aroused, how do you reproduce?”

“I, personally, don’t. I gather it requires stimulation though.”

“So, technically, you and I aren’t so different. I mean, you and other humans…”

 

                Dean noted that Castiel looked a little uncomfortable, and it made him feel slightly remorseful, but he had a slight problem with caring about what other people thought or felt, at times. He responded, nonetheless.

“I really don’t understand the point of stimulation without the intent to reproduce. Why would you do that?”

“Because it feels nice.”

“It can’t be that special…”

“Oh believe me, it is. It’s an unfortunate fact of human life; something that drives us, but at the same time makes us weak. It’s something we crave. Most of us, anyway.”

“So what happens when you’re here too long? If you crave sex, won’t you need it?”

“I mean…we don’t need sex. There are other ways…Self stimulation and all.”

“I still don’t quite understand…Feels nice how? Like…taking a warm bath or something? The feeling of a full stomach after weeks of what seems like starvation?”

 

                Dean laughed somewhat boisterously, “Oh man, why are you so smart but you don’t know the first thing about sex?”

“Because it was never taught to me! There are some things that are basic instincts, and in our race we don’t have _sex_. We breed ,for the purpose of furthering our race. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway. Although… mother and father did have a strange habit of disappearing into the bed chambers, and there were no offspring after my birth…”

“There you go.” Dean said, holding out his hands. Though upon moving them, he noticed they were still wet with blood. “…I need to go clean up.”

“You should. I think I’ll seclude myself again. Perhaps companionship isn’t worth the shere influx of uncomfortable conversations…”he said, heading of further into the cave before Dean could move.

“Cas, wait, I-,”

“My name isn’t Cas, either!” he shouted back, and he was gone before Dean had the chance to apologize.


	6. How To Please Your Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Very nsfw and fairly long because Cas has very complicated genitals

Dean was in the dog house, more or less, for the next few days after the incident, before Castiel came crawling back so to speak. After that, the days seemed to fly. Dean had lost track of days; they all bled together but a good majority of them involved Castiel. Dean became worried when Castiel disappeared, but found him in the stream about the time the blood showed back up. Dean estimated it had been several weeks at this point; maybe even a month. When he came back, he was a bit touchy, but nonetheless fell back into the swing of their strange companionship.

 

                Though as the days progressed, it got a bit weirder. There was a curiosity lurking beneath the vale of those crystal blues. A curiosity Dean couldn’t quite figure out; what did he want…? With days of Castiel’s curiosity a curiosity lurking deep in his mind, only lingering but like a snake slithering through the folds of his brain, searching for the food that was an answer. He would wait for Castiel to come to him with his questions, though. But when it finally happened, he found himself unready for the inquiry.

 

                As he was seated one day next to the hunter, tail folded over his lap and knees bent beneath him, he asked his question. Castiel seemed to always make sure not to expose too much to Dean, so this was incredibly surprising.

“Dean, I…I would like your help.”

“With?” Dean asked, an air of nonchalance.

Castiel cleared his throat and mumbled something that Dean didn’t quite catch.

“Come again?”

“...Mating,” he said, though again he was quiet.

“Uh…what? What, you got some big date? You want me to give you some of the basics?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean I want you to …show me what’s so good about mating, and what to do should I ever meet one. I want you to demonstrate…”

“…What?! Cas, do you…do you know what you’re asking me?”

“I’m aware.”

“Cas that’s…that’s a special thing.”

“Understand this…Since that…conversation, I’ve always been curious. One day I hope to have a mate, if I could find one. I’d like to know what I’m supposed to do; not only that, but I’m curious. I _need_ to know.”

“Jesus Christ…” Dean said, putting his hand over his face. “This is what you want? You want _me_ to do it? I don’t know…”

“Look, for me it isn’t special. I’m highly certain that you’re not a virgin, either.”

 

                Dean swallowed, trying to urge himself to answer. He wasn’t sure if what to do here… But he felt it was probably best to give a beast holding his freedom what he wanted… He wasn’t sure why he was still here, even. Did Castiel not trust him yet…?

“Okay…I’ll show you. Do you really wanna do this…here? It looks really uncomfortable.”

“No…” Castiel said, standing from the ground, and he turned to Dean as he began heading off, “Follow.”

 

                Dean was nervous, and he had no idea why. He’d been with many a man and woman, and never before had he really been nervous. But this wasn’t just any man or woman, this was a damn dragon. He had no idea what he was dealing with. Especially not down south… If he fucked up, what would happen then? What if he hurt him, and pissed him off in doing so?

 

                Before he knew it, Castiel was at one of the blockades, placing his clawed hand gingerly upon the stone near it, sending energy from his fingertips and into the wall. The stones lowered, and they headed in. The room was fairly bright, having more of those glowing pillars than most of the cave. But most noticeably, and infuriating, was the bed. Castiel had a bed; a very large bed, and he didn’t. He bit his tongue though, and followed him in. His heart was still thudding; he couldn’t believe he was going to do this. What was he even going to do? He was pretty sure they weren’t actually going to fuck or anything. At least, his dick probably wouldn’t be in the equation at all. He just needed to show Castiel some…things, as it were.

 

                The dragon headed over to the bed, pulling himself onto it and looking at Dean somewhat nervously.

“You’re _sure_?”

“I’m sure…It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“…Uh, no. Not for you, not now.”

Castiel nodded, but there was still confusion on his features.

 

                Dean’s limbs felt like jelly as he moved towards the bed, sitting beside him before taking the plunge and gripping at the dragon’s jaw, ever so slightly. He’d never actually touched Castiel; never had a reason to, but he was far warmer than he had imagined. Perhaps even warmer than a normal human… His movements were stuttered, but as he neared him he spoke, “People like to be kissed…You can’t just get straight to it. You get that?” Dean asked, as he neared him. The dragon nodded the best he could before Dean moved in, his lips brushing the slightly chapped, yet still soft skin. “Follow my lead…” Dean mumbled against his lips before actually closing in.

 

                It was awkward and strange; he’d never really thought about the dragon like this before but he had to admit that Castiel’s lips fit nicely against his own. It was awkward and slow at first; Castiel was lost in what to do, but soon enough he learned the motions to take. Dean was fairly surprised when he felt those clawed fingers tugging at the sides of his shirt, gripping at them for the sake of holding something. It was more reciprocation than he had expected.

 

                With more fluidity than he thought he was capable of at the moment, he gently eased Castiel onto his back, watching as his wings spread out beneath him so he could avoid trapping them painfully. He’d never seen them at full length, but even with them being slightly folded he could tell they were massive. He left Castiel’s lips to kiss down the line of his jaw, noticing as he titled his head back for access. His lips found their way to the side of his neck, and he felt his pulse thudding quickly beneath him. Wandering hands made their way to the dragon’s side and chest, caressing both scale and skin. He gently raked his nails down his ribs, moved to his abdomen and slid upwards. Fingers coming to rest on one of his erect nipples and dragging downward. He felt the dragon shift beneath him; a sort of arch, and the almost inaudible huff that vibrated his neck slightly. Castiel shifted his legs slightly, bringing them closer together as though he felt sort of vulnerable.

 

                Dean stopped briefly enough to look up at him; he was slightly flushed, the slits of his eyes dilated further than he’d ever seen. The ribs beneath his fingers shifted, as his breathing picked up.

“How does it feel?”

“I don’t know…It feels…different.”

“Pleasant?”

“Initially, but I feel…I don’t know, like I need something more.”

“That’s pretty normal,” Dean stated as he suddenly pulled away. Castiel suddenly pulled himself up to lean against the headboard, just so he could see what Dean was doing as he moved himself further down. After a bit of maneuvering, he was in front of Castiel’s legs, which he still held close together. Gingerly he placed his hands upon his knees, attempting to pull them apart but Castiel resisted.

“Are you scared?” Dean asked, his hand stroking the flesh there.

“Slightly…”

“Why? I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. Are you sure you want to keep doing this?”

 

                Castiel seemed to consider things in his mind for a moment before nodding, and then relaxing his legs. He allowed Dean to pull them apart, and so he did. Starting at the knees before he migrated to his thighs, spreading his legs so that he could see just what he was doing. Well, there was something there but he still didn’t know what to do with it. The only difference he saw was that the slit was not so closed. It had opened slightly, but it was still too dark in there to see anything other than the very edges of the inside. Dean guessed this had something to do with arousal. Dean had to admit, he looked pretty like this…

 

                One hand slid up his thigh, up to the inside of his hip and shifting towards where the scales met the rest of his skin, closer to the groin area. His fingers danced along the very edges of his sheath, feeling the dragon’s body jerk beneath him.

“You okay?” Dean asked once again, and Castiel nodded. He was still nervous about this whole thing, but he managed to work up the courage to move further. His fingers moving along the opening, starting at the top and working his way to the bottom. As he did this, he got quite the reaction. The dragon jerked his hips up, letting out a whimpering whine as he leaned his head back, bearing his throat. His fingers continued to work at the area, and as he did so he began to feel something fairly…odd. His fingers felt slick, and he drew them back and examined them, finding them covered in a clear, viscous fluid.

“Uh…is this okay?” Dean asked, holding his fingers up and showing him what he’d come away with.

“Don’t know…” Castiel responded, not speaking much but Dean could see the silent plea in his eyes to go back to his work. He lowered his hand again, rubbing at the slit, finding that the fluid was coming from near the bottom but he didn’t know exactly from where.

 

                Dean had no idea what he was doing, but Castiel seemed to be enjoying himself. He was slightly flushed, head tilted back against the headboard again as his chest heaved with the air fleeing from his lungs, entangled with light whines of pleasure. Castiel at least seemed to have some pretty good nerve endings in this area. Dean swallowed slightly, feeling a little bothered. He’d come into this as just a teacher, but the more he watched the dragon, despite the fact that he didn’t really have any feelings for him, he was finding this fairly arousing.

 

                The more he touched him the more he noticed he was opening up for him, but he still wasn’t sure what he was looking at. The room was still dark, and all he was seeing was slightly shimmering skin. What was he supposed to do? Touch him here the whole time? He was still seeing no sort of genitalia… He took initiative and slid his fingers downwards, towards where the slickness seemed to be coming from.

 

                He shifted one finger downward into the slick area, finding that it was coming from somewhere deeper. Moving slightly deeper the digit came upon a slightly raised area, seemingly with an opening in the center. Slipping his finger further he moved further down, not quite sure what he had just run across, but in time he’d probably figure it out. He moved past the raised area, finding the flesh even again until he moved further and found that it took a sudden dip into another opening. It was slick there, and almost burning hot as he tried to press in deeper. Castiel made a noise of discomfort and Dean stilled himself, looking up in concern, “Are you okay?”

 

                Castiel nodded, spreading his legs further and letting out a heavy breath as Dean continued on. He still wasn’t sure what he was feeling here, wondering if maybe this is where his penis was at, but it was very low… He ran his finger along the top of the entrance and suddenly came upon a rough, ridged sort of protrusion, and it caused the dragon to give out a shuddering gasp, pushing his hips forward. He experimentally pressed down on the spot, causing him again to roll his hips against Dean’s hand. Sharp teeth bitten down on his lip as he muffled a moan that probably would have been a lot louder had he not quieted it. He worked at the area a few seconds more, before he realized that this all seemed…very familiar. With confusion in his mind, he drew his finger away, watching the slick fluids bridge from his finger to the slit. Using his free hand, he pushed Castiel’s leg aside before he decided to really look and see just what he was dealing with. It was again, wider, but not quite enough to see what he needed to.

 

                Gently, he pulled the sides of his sheath apart, and upon doing so found that it was much more than just a sheath. There were so many parts hidden inside that it could make his head spin. It was almost like looking at a complicated puzzle, but he was beginning to understand. He understood more now than he thought he would have. He noticed, higher inside of the slit was a sphincter muscle, and as his eyes lingered down further he found just where he’d had his finger a moment ago. He swallowed, taking in a breath. Okay, this was different…but not at all bad.

 

                While Castiel seemed predominantly male, the truth of the matter was apparent as he gazed down at him; he was actually hermaphroditic.

“Is there a problem?” Castiel breathed out, looking down at him.

“No I just…could you not have told me you had …uh, both parts?” Dean asked, not entirely sure how to approach the situation.

“It’s normal for us. Sometimes I forget you’re human…” Castiel said, looking down at him with a bit of irritation. “So is it a problem?”

“No, actually it’s pretty damn neat.” Dean admitted, going back to his work.

 

                He worked his finger against the entrance in his sheath again, working back through the slick passage. He slid his finger further back, dragging it back forward over the ridged protrusion again, and he noticed the movement made him shudder.

“Does that feel good?” Dean asked, pushing down in the area. The dragon hissed, his back arching slightly as he titled his head back before nodding. Dean was noticing that even though this was an area he was familiar with, in other ways he was not. The location of nerve endings seemed to be different. There seemed to be more of them, in places they were generally not. Castiel seemed to be highly sensitive…It’s like that whole area was just a mass of ultrasensitive nerve endings. He had barely worked with him and he already seemed pretty pleased.

 

                Having a general idea of where his penis was at, due to the fact that the only normal part of Castiel was his ass, and everything was intact there, Dean set to work higher with his other hand. He ran his thumb along the sphincter and felt it convulse slightly beneath the digit, while he felt the muscles around his finger clamp down on him briefly. It took a mere few moments of applying pressure to both spots to get Castiel really going. The dragon was clutching onto the sheets, head thrown back and chest heaving as he cried out, rough and pleasured. Back arched and hips rolling at Dean’s fingers with fervor. He stilled momentarily, letting out a ground out moan, at which point Dean felt pressure upon his thumb.

               

                He quickly pulled away and watched with mild interest as his muscles contracted, and the sphincter loosened and opened as Castiel fully unsheathed himself. His cock was fairly human despite the fact that it was missing a few key parts below it, and that it was jutting from an open sphincter. Castiel was bigger than him in length, but he was not here to compare. They were roughly the same girth, except the closer to his other sheath his cock got, the thicker it got. Now that Castiel was fully unsheathed, there was nothing left to the imagination. He could see everything much clearer now.

 

                Now that he had more exposed, the hunter brought his free hand down to Castiel’s seeping entrance, gathering some of the fluid there on his hand and bringing it back to grasp at his cock. It too, was leaking to a degree; a small bead of precum forming at the tip but not enough lubrication for what Dean wanted. Not when there was already some available. He noted that it was very hot, already pulsing lightly when he started to run his fist up the shaft, grinning slightly as the dragon bucked his hips up into his hand.

“You like your cock touched?” Dean said, feeling a bit vulgar as he spoke, but it was something that felt good… Castiel nodded, letting out a muffled, slightly high pitched whine. Dean stopped momentarily, feeling devious. This wasn’t what he had intended to do, but he knew he had power over Castiel, and he wanted to hear him beg. He wanted Castiel to tell him what he wanted.

“Which do you like touched more? Your pussy or your cock?”

“Both-don’t you fucking stop.” Castiel ground out, breath coming out in sharp and urgent pants.

“Tell me you need me.”

“Dean-,”

“Come on, tell me you need me.”

“I need you!” Castiel shouted, whiney and desperate as he rolled his hips at the fingers in him that refused to move. “Please…”

 

                Now that he had Castiel begging, he continued his ministrations, this time sliding a second finger further, into him and pressing at his g-spot. Alternating between his touches as he rubbed at the area, his other hand working at his cock. Rubbing his thumb beneath and along the top of the glans. Castiel was certainly pleased now, letting out a shaking moan in response. He continued to emit these breathless cries the more Dean worked, and within a few moments he had him trembling and tense. His back was arched hips raised and body suddenly stilling as he struggled to breathe and the only noise coming from his mouth were the sounds of the choked off air forcing its way from his lungs.

 

                Dean could tell he was nearing orgasm, but the sudden gush of fluid spurting onto the hand working this g-spot was not something he expected. Clear and much more liquid than the viscous fluids that he’d already been leaking. As the muscles still clenched tightly around him, liquid still spurting onto his hand and arm, he felt the flesh beneath his other hand pulse, before it too was spurting semen onto his hand, some of it dripping down his hand while other bits of it hit the dragon’s abdomen.

 

                Castiel seemed more or less gone at this point, back arched sharply and mouth agape with a silent scream of pleasure, with his eyes closed tightly and his fingers so embedded in the bed sheets he might never get them free. As soon as the fluids stopped flowing, he watched as Castiel relaxed the best he could, taking in a sharp breath before abruptly rolling over, dislodging Dean’s fingers in the process. He appeared to be in some sort of shock, curling into some sort of ball and trembling violently as his breathing came out in ragged pants with one arm gripping at his own shoulder and the other gripping at the bed again.

 

                Ignoring the fact that he might suffer Castiel’s wrath later, he wiped his hands on the part of the sheet that was already wet, before moving next to him and brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“Hey, Cas…you okay?” he asked, more worry in his tone than he’d like to admit. The noise that he emitted seemed as though it was supposed to be some semblance of speech, but it was slurred and nonsensical. This seemed worrisome, but at the same time Dean understood. He understood that his system had probably been severely shocked, being a virgin and having both a male and female orgasm at the same time. So all Dean could do was run his fingers through his hair, avoiding the horns, and down his arm soothingly until his body recovered from the shock. It was worrying, but at the same time amusing and satisfying that he’d made his first time so good he wasn’t even able to form words.

 

                After sitting there for a few moments, he watched as Castiel’s form relaxed and a mumbled sentence escaped from his lips, but too quiet for Dean to hear.

“What?”

“I said…did I pee on you?”

Dean couldn’t help but let out a short, yet loud laugh and it probably didn’t make Castiel feel any better about the situation, but he quickly regained composure so that he could answer.

“No, no you didn’t.”

Castiel sighed contentedly, “Good… Now that you’ve done as I’ve asked, you are permitted to sleep here in my bed, even though you denied me briefly during our…coitus, and I swear if you ever do that again, you will pay.”

“Again...?”

“Don’t question it right now…”

“Right…um, I’ll be back…I need to go use the bathroom. I’ll bring something back to get you cleaned up.”

Castiel glanced down briefly, then sighed with annoyance, “Right…”

                Dean headed off, making his way to the stream and to the area where he usually bathed. Castiel had supplied him with a few rags a few weeks back that he kept near their bathing area, because Dean preferred them to just using his hands. He would make use of them for Castiel, but in truth he hadn’t actually left to use the bathroom. There was a familiar ache in his loins; the ache for the need of release.

 

                He knelt by the stream, undoing the strings on his pants before pulling his painfully hard cock from its confines, slicking precum along the inside of the fabric as he did. Using the slick fluid as lubrication, he ran his fingers along the beading slit at the head, fighting back a groan that threatened to escape him. He made quick work of himself, not wanting to take things slow, and just wanting relief. Fist just the right tightness around his cock as he pumped himself, taking special care to swipe along the underside and head as he worked himself closer by the second. Due to being so worked up, it really didn’t take long, and he felt the relief of release as he spurted the pearlescent fluid onto his hand, teeth bitten down on his lip to suppress the moan that would have escaped.

               

He made quick work of cleaning himself up, making himself decent, and wetting a rag for Castiel. He rushed back with haste, hoping that he wasn’t going to be caught. Castiel was still waiting for him there, though he looked tired. The dragon looked annoyed as he climbed onto the bed, pulling his legs open and cleaning down his thighs and along his sheath, before running it up his belly and getting the droplets of come that had fallen there. It was tossed aside in the corner somewhere, which the dragon didn’t seem pleased about but let it slide anyway.

 

It felt weird, but Dean laid beside him, facing his sleep deprived form, and even as he closed his eyes Dean could not help but speak.

“Cas…about the blood.”

“For God sakes, Dean…If you haven’t figured it out by now, yes, I menstruate. It’s a very personal thing and I don’t want to explain why right now; I’m very tired. Go to sleep, or so help me.”

Well, that answered that mystery…

 

                Dean was content to lay there, after Castiel had fallen asleep. He too, drifting close to slumber. If he wanted to, Dean could kill this dragon. He was vulnerable; asleep and sated and there was a good chance he could easily snap his neck, and find a way to escape the cave on his own. But he didn’t; instead he slept, lying next to a sleeping dragon, who could also kill him at any time. There was a strange amount of trust in this companionship…


	7. How To Control Your Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of very vulgar imagery at the bottom of this chapter. Porn for the sake of porn, and then for the sake of explanation about Cas's junk.

In the past week or more, Castiel had learned a lot. He’d learned a lot about what felt good and what didn’t; which wasn’t a lot. He was receptive to almost anything and everything, in a good way. But Dean had learned little to nothing about him after that, other than how to please him, and that the spikes on his head were retractable, but the latter wasn’t too important. He supposed he had learned that Castiel was incredibly demanding, as of late.

 

                Part of him regretted ever introducing him to sex, because he was more or less an addict, and Dean could do nothing but obey. He had become a slave; catering to his whim in the hopes that maybe he could leave eventually, but sometimes he even forgot why he was doing this. Why he was here, why he was doing everything for Castiel. It was becoming second nature. When he was asked something, even if he didn’t want to do it, he would say yes. Without even thinking of the possibility that maybe if he manipulated Castiel by doing what he wanted, he could leave. Was it Castiel being manipulated, or was it him?

 

                Even though it was second nature to perform for this dragon now, Dean couldn’t help but admit he was a little frustrated, mostly in a sexual manner. As he was now, tongue deep in his sheath with those clawed fingers holding his head in place. Hips rolling against him as his tongue dragged upwards through the slick slit and onto the underside of his cock. Raising himself up so that he could sink his mouth down around that needy member. Within moments he had that hot come spurting onto his tongue and down his throat, with Castiel’s fingers tight on his hair as he bucked his hips against his face with shaking moans spilling from his lips.

 

That was something he’d learned; that when he came, it was hot; especially in his mouth. It scorched his tongue, burned his throat as it traveled downwards. Tasting of salt and spice from the taste buds that weren’t compromised by heat. But it was hotter from its source, cooling quickly when left to flow freely. However, Dean was used to pain; he could handle the temporary scalding. What he was not happy with, though, was the aforementioned sexual frustration.

 

                After Castiel was sated, Dean pulled away as the member retracted, albeit slowly. He decided that he would no longer sit idly by and be a slave to Castiel’s crotch. With determination, he crawled up the rest of the dragon’s body, leaning over him as he pinned his wrists to the bed.

“I’m sick of being your slave.”

“What part of you is a slave? I feed you, I give you a bed, I ask you to do no manual labor…” Castiel said, clearly a bit annoyed.

“I lick and finger your cunt almost every day, multiple times. I’m sick of doing everything for you and not getting anything back.” Dean said, staring down at him and attempting to match the intensity in the glare that Castiel was giving him.

“So what do you want?”

“I want you to turn around, get on your knees and lift that pretty little tail of yours. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

 

                Castiel merely swallowed at first, jerking his wrists away and pulling away from the hunter. At first Dean thought he was going to leave, but instead he rolled onto his stomach before repositioning himself on his knees. He pulled his tail up, exposing himself while the appendage swayed with annoyance.

“You should have just asked, “Castiel said, looking back at him, shuddering slightly as Dean slipped his hand between his legs, teasing the still damp sheath and gathering up some of the slick fluid there. “I didn’t think you thought of me like that. Not enough to want to copulate.”

“This isn’t copulation,” Dean mumbled, pulling his fingers back and rubbing the slick fluid onto his lower entrance. It was an area he knew, at least; Castiel had gotten curious, asking him to touch him there. He didn’t seem to mind the pain of being stretched, but Dean wasn’t going to be mean.

               

                He had never put his cock there, though, and the only lube that they had was the natural dampness gathering at Castiel’s sheath, and it was all they’d ever had. He was lucky Castiel was already pretty damp there already, but he probably needed more. He decided best to abandon this task right now, slipping his hand between his legs again and scrubbing his fingers against the sensitive nerve endings in the once again widening slit. The more he touched him, the more he noticed Castiel spread his legs for him. Pushing his hips down against Dean’s fingers, still craving touch even after being sated so soon. But Dean knew that Castiel didn’t have to wait to get worked up again; he’d already seen it.

 

                It wasn’t long before he was hard again, cock pushed out from his muscles and already aching for touch. Dean, of course, obliged; it’d help get him more lubrication. He roughly ran his fingers up the length of his slit, from top to bottom until he reached the base. Wrapping his fist around the thick member, he stroked upwards in a deliberately slow, almost agonizing pace. Castiel wasn’t pleased, letting out a displeased grunt in response.

“Calm the hell down, princess. I’ll give you what you what we both want. I need you wet first.”

“Fuck you,” Castiel spat, huffing at him before he forced himself to relax, at the mercy of Dean’s wandering hand.

 

                       Despite the fact that he was annoyed, he was still aroused. He thought this was about a good a time as ever to remove his clothes. He made quick work of his boots, shucking them onto the floor before yanking off his shirt, then untying his pants and those two joined the pile.

Now much more exposed, he ran his fingers through the slickness again before drawing them back to the much neglected entrance. He was slick enough and relaxed that Dean was able to slip a finger in easily, with a bit of coaxing. It wasn’t the first time he’d had his fingers in there, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. With a bit more coaxing, and the addition of a few more fingers, Dean thought that maybe he was prepared enough. He hoped. He drew out his fingers and dipped them back into his sheath, gathering mass amounts of the viscous fluids he was producing.

 

                       This was probably a bad idea; a terrible idea, at that, but he was going to make it work. He slicked it along his cock, making sure to go back to gather more until it was wet and shimmering with the clear slickness. With his hand still damp, he settled it upon Castiel’s lower back, gripping his cock with the other hand. Lining it up was easy, but it was the insertion that was hard. Castiel’s muscles fought him, tightening against the intrusion, prompting Dean to run a soothing hand along his back. He relaxed just long enough for Dean to slip the head of his cock in. The sudden clenching of his muscles pulled him forward slightly, and he couldn’t help but let out a pleasured huff as the incredibly tight heat started to envelope the nerve laden flesh.

 

                       Castiel seemed less pleased though, letting out a whimper and bowing his head. In response, the hunter again ran his hand soothingly over his back.

“C’mon Cas, I know you’ve had worse. It’s gonna be okay…Do you want me to stop?” he asked, guilt causing him to add on the last line.

“N-no, keep going…”

Despite Castiel’s urging, Dean kept still, waiting for him to adjust. Castiel seemed not to mind pain, though, as he suddenly pushed himself backwards onto Dean’s cock. The hunter couldn’t help but give out a shocked, short moan as the sudden heat surrounded his flesh. God, Castiel was _so_ damn _hot_ in there. His blood had to be practically boiling. He didn’t quite understand; he’d felt the dragon’s blood touch his hands when he was still a dragon, and it was warmer than average but not hot. Perhaps it was because of the smaller concentration, raising his body temperature.

 

                       Letting out a breath, Dean slid his hand down Castiel’s back, towards the twitching tail threatening to smack him as it moved. He gripped near the middle, where the spikes weren’t jutting from the smooth scale. Mainly to hold it still, but to move it as well. To see his dick buried and enveloped by that pretty ass of his. Christ, Dean hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to fuck him until he got his fingers in him that first time. Building and building into a slow, boiling flame of desire that never really left him despite the orgasms he gave himself. He wanted Castiel; and here he was, cock buried in his ass and he wasn’t moving, because if he did he might just lose himself right there.

 

                       He did manage to move, inch by inch, slowly until he was up to the base. Completely buried in the hot passage that was clenched around him like a python; a little painful, but worth it.

“Dean,” Castiel said in an almost gruff bark, “Move.”

Dean swallowed, and then he moved. Drawing his hips back slowly and then pushing in again, gripping a little harder at Castiel’s tail while the other dented fingerprints into his hip. A shaking breath escaped him as he started to move a bit, pistoning his hips at a slow pace until the movement became easier, and Castiel was more relaxed. It was arousing before, but the soft moans that the dragon was emitting were just adding to the growing lust boiling in his gut.

 

                       He kept at a slow pace at first, until he began to lose himself in the pleasure and he became more erratic. Quicker, deeper thrusts as he drew out and slammed himself back in. Each thrust sending the dragon forward slightly as he struggled to stay upright, sharp gasps struggling from his throat with each slam into his passage. Despite his supposed lack of balance, Castiel was eager to buck back against Dean’s cock, letting out muffled moans each time Dean’s hips met his ass.

 

                       The hunter shifted suddenly, causing a very different sensation for the other party. He shortened his thrusts, angling himself downward and hitting him at a different angle. The noise of pleasure that fled from the dragon’s throat was almost startling. Loud, almost a screaming, lower pitched squeal as his body trembled and his back arched. He enjoyed this reaction, and made sure to thrust the same way again and it caused nearly the same reaction. A loud, shaking moan that wavered into a whimper as he struggled to breath. At this point, Dean became relentless. He knew how to thrust, where to go and how to do it and he loved the way Castiel reacted. The way his limbs trembled and his back was arched so sharply that it seemed as though it may snap like a twig. Breaths coming out in sharp pants and struggling moans, as nonsensical curses fled from his lips as he struggled to function. To breathe, to exist, to keep upright as pleasure so extreme coursed through his body, that it threatened to break him. And Dean loved it…

 

                       It was sick and twisted, perhaps, but he loved it. Loved taking this creature down into nothing but a writhing mess that existed only for his cock, as it rode through his slick passage. A creature who’s only existence at that moment were the stars in his eyes and the nerves firing through his body. The dizziness in his brain and the lack of coherency because the only thing he could think about was what was in his ass. Something so intense that it threatened to drive him to madness before he would even have the chance to come. But of course, he did, and Dean’s ride seemed to be over before he could even reach climax.

 

                       The dragon came with a choked cry, pushing through his tightened throat as his lungs worked to force out the sound, and he nearly sobbed with the relief and the pleasure overtaking his mind. Dean thought that maybe if he could keep going; ride through the muscles clenching around his cock that he could come too, but Castiel stopped him. Reaching back and gripping at Dean’s hand as he begged him with such misery to stop, and Dean couldn’t allow himself to keep going out of guilt. He thought that perhaps he was becoming so overstimulated that he was in pain.

 

                       The minute that Dean pulled out, cock still glistening slightly with the fluids he had used and head leaking with desire, Castiel collapsed onto his stomach with the utmost lack of grace. He was spent, but he struggled to move after a moment and roll over to look at him.

“I need a moment…” Castiel mumbled, speaking intercepted by the continuous panting as he tried to catch his breath. Dean nodded, half tempted to finish himself off but Castiel still seemed willing. Breathing slightly heavily, Dean settled between Castiel’s legs and pulled the dragon’s legs open. He looked up with him in curiosity and confusion, but seemed too tired to do much of anything at the moment. He ran his fingers along his slit and watched as his body jerked slightly at the touch. As he thought, the dragon was _damn_ wet down there.

 

                       Retracting his hand, Dean crawled on top of the dragon still panting slightly beneath him, leaning his head down to nip lightly at the side of his neck. Running his hand up Castiel’s ribs, Dean moved up to nip at his ear. In response, he let a clawed hand rest on Dean’s back, tilting his head to the side to better let the hunter work at the sensitive area.

“I want you to ride me…” Dean said, voice low and husky with lust. “With your pussy.”

It was the logical choice; he was already lubricated there, and he wouldn’t need to work with getting him relubricated. Furthermore, he wouldn’t have to hold his tail.

“You’re going to have to work me up again…” Castiel mumbled, scooting out from beneath Dean’s weight and using more strength than Dean had thought he had to reposition him, so that he was lying on his back.

 

                       Dean didn’t have the chance to agree before Castiel was kneeling over him, lowering himself as he gripped Dean’s head and practically shoved it against his sheath. The smell of sex and previous arousal was almost overpowering, but Dean got the idea well enough. His tongue flicked out to lap at the already damp slit, tasting the slightly salty, sweet flavor of the viscous fluids that dampened his tongue. He dipped his tongue into the opening, licking the inside area and stimulating the nerve endings there. He heard Castiel give out a muffled huff as he pushed his hips forward, fingers and claws deep in his hair, and he could feel the sharpness scraping at his scalp. Dean suddenly realized he was right back where he’d started from, but at least he was going to get something out of it. He was painfully hard at the moment, eager to bury his cock in a different part of Castiel’s body this time.

 

                       It wasn’t long before Castiel’s cock was practically in his eye socket, at which point he pulled away. Luckily he’d learned to deal with the dragon’s almost spring loaded dick beforehand. Castiel got the point and pulled away from Dean’s face, placing both of his knees on either side of Dean’s hips. Very gingerly he began to sink down, as the hunter held his cock steady with his own hand. Castiel had to reposition his own genitalia, holding himself open slightly so that he could more easily impale himself, so to speak. Pushing himself down, Castiel lowered himself onto the waiting member, wincing slightly as Dean started to slip inside.

 

                       Unfortunately, he did the same thing he did last time; forcibly impale himself. Taking in a sharp hiss of a gasp, Dean gripped the dark scales at his hips to try to still him, as he whimpered in pain.

“Easy!” Dean said, stroking his hip; but the damage was mostly done. Castiel was bent forward, gripping at his shoulders as he took breath.

“Cas, come on…Why do you think you have to do that?”

“To get it over with. I know it will hurt…I just want to do it all at once. I don’t’ want to take it slow.”

“Yeah, well it hurts worse if you do it all at once.” Dean sad, fingers still gently caressing the scales beneath his thumb. “You okay?”

“Fine…I’m fine.” Castiel huffed, “It’s just a lot of stretching...and tearing.”

 

                       Dean frowned up at him before swallowing back a moan as Castiel shifted his hips up, rising and falling slowly. It truly felt good; surrounded by the slick dampness and the extreme heat, but he felt it wrong to make any noise while Castiel was still in pain. He winced slightly as he rose and fell, but he seemed more relaxed the more he moved. Dean couldn’t help but roll his hips against the dragon’s, leaning up slightly and bracing himself so that he could get better leverage.

 

                       He kept it slow at first, once again. Hips rising and falling in time with Castiel’s as the both of them kept some sort of rhythm together. Hot and wet as he slid in and out, with the dragon moaning softly above him. His fingers gripping at his shoulders, claws digging in just a little too much. But it wasn’t enough; he liked being pleased, and he liked pleasing Castiel; but he wanted to please him more. He wanted to have him like he had him before; overwhelmed and driven mad. He scooted backwards somewhat so that he could lean against the headboard, dragging Castiel with him. With the hand he had been using to brace himself, he gripped the leaking cock jutting from his pubic area. It earned a strangled sort of moan from the other male, his hips jerking and jostling the cock inside of him.

 

                       The moment Castiel got into it, he sped up his movements as did Dean. Fingers gripped into his shoulder again as he rode him hard, moans coming quicker and louder now with each thrust. Dean couldn’t keep himself quiet now; letting out rough sighs, groans and choked out moans. He didn’t give up on Castiel though, jerking his cock the way he knew it liked to be touched, angling himself so that he could rub against his g-spot. He could tell Castiel was starting to come apart again. Grinding down as his moans became choked; movements shaky and erratic.

 

                       Feeling the sudden need to become slightly more intimate, Dean reached up from Castiel’s hip, grasping a bit blindly at his head area and managing to grip him by the horn, pulling him down to meet his lips. His fingers drifted from the bony protrusion and threaded through his hair as he kissed him a bit roughly. Full of teeth, biting and saliva. Sloppy kisses and soft nips upon chapped skin. Rough bites that almost drew blood from sharp, pointed teeth.

 

                       Suddenly, Castiel stilled and his fingers dug sharply into Dean’s shoulders, claws tearing at his skin as he let out a rough, choked shout. Dean felt the hot fluids dripping down his fingers and the pulsing and clenching around his cock, and Dean tried to run through it. Stimulating him still even as he worked through his orgasm, leaving him trembling and crying out breathlessly. Dean was close as well, still thrusting into him through the clenching muscles. Finally, he reached that moment, stars in his eyes as he let out a shuddering cry and spilled his seed into the wetness above him.

 

                       Dean finally relaxed, and at this moment he realized just how wiped Castiel was. He looked exhausted and half out of it, and the moment he was able to he moved shakingly off of Dean’s cock, not even having enough energy to roll off him. He simply laid on his chest, still trembling lightly and trying to regain his breathing again. The hunter ran a hand through what he could of Castiel’s hair, while the other ran down the feathers of his wings.

 

                       By the time Dean realized Castiel had returned to normal, he was sleeping on top of him. He gently dislodged him, rolling him onto the bed next to him before falling back onto the bed, letting out a breath. He decided then; he liked Castiel, and he liked fucking him. But most of all, he liked seeing him broken down in the most pleasant of ways. It occurred to him that Castiel had been controlling him, using for sex, but Dean wondered now if perhaps he could do the same; use sex to control the dragon…

 

 

 

 


	8. The Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the end of this chapter

Use sex to control the dragon; that’s what he had intended, but it went poorly. Dean wasn’t controlling much of anything. At first, it worked. Dean would fuck him to sleep, more or less; made him sated and complacent, but his sexual appetite was insatiable. Dean liked to think he could control Castiel at first, but the more they fucked, the more Dean realized he was wrong. Castiel was still the one in control; even when Dean was fucking into him. Sometimes, Dean didn’t even know they were fucking. Castiel would wake before him, or when he was napping, and have his way with him while he was still asleep. Dean was exhausted…

 

                       But one day, something changed. Castiel seemed less interested, day after day, until one day when Dean tried to initiate, Castiel shoved him off and rolled over. He got slightly distant after that, and their routine seemed far less sexual, but it was a routine at least. They kept each other’s company, they fucked occasionally; that was it. Dean was really starting to questing why he was here, again. How did Castiel not trust him now? But he came to him one day with a request; and Dean saw that maybe it was his time to get out of here…

 

“Dean…” Castiel said to him, as the hunter sat at the stream, partaking of the water. “I need your help.”

“With?”

Castiel sighed, swallowing as though he was trying to swallow some pride, “…Hunting.”

Curious, Dean turned and stood, looking at him with confusion. “Hunting? Can’t you take care of that yourself?”

“I’m not feeling well… I want you to come with me. To take your weapons and help me hunt down something to eat, and to look out for enemies. I need your help…Please.”

“You have enemies?”

“Do you not remember the first time we met? Dean, come on…”

“Alright, fine, I’ll help you.” Dean said, with mock irritation in his voice.

 

\---

 

                       The minute those doors opened, Dean thought about running; but he didn’t. He knew Castiel needed food. He also didn’t run because for a moment, he was half blind. For the first time he had fresh air, with a firearm and a sword at his side. Castiel walked beside him; a slow but heavy gait, almost elegant in his beastly form. All was quiet for some time, as they were heading towards the more forested areas of the mountain. As they were nearing its edge, fog still thick in the air, a deep, screeching roar sounded from the air above him.

“The fuck was that…?” Dean asked, looking around with worry. Castiel didn’t respond, but his body stance was enough to tell that that noise was trouble. He was low to the ground, and exuding an air of nervousness. Slowly, he began to back away from the edge of the forest. Dean was worried; what was it that scared him?

                       Castiel turned at this point, and he ran. Dean struggled to keep up with him as he moved, but he didn’t get too far. A massive shadow appeared beneath them, before its size decreased and a deafening roar shook the ground. In less than a moment, Castiel was pinned by yet another great beast. It was a blackish grey color; white, almost skeletal markings decorating it’s body. More spikes than he’d ever seen on a dragon. Leading down it’s spine, it’s sides, it’s tail; making the appendage a very dangerous weapons. It’s claws were like scythes; long and incredibly sharp, built for tearing apart it’s foes. A fin ran down it’s spine, more of which were attached to its face and legs. Bright, glowing red eyes peered from beneath its massive horns, and were focused on it’s prey. Castiel…

 

                       He was pinned down on his front, the dragon’s claws on his back and it’s teeth at his neck. Quickly, Dean drew his sword; he had to save him… With blind determination he rushed forward, not considering the weight of the actions he was preforming. He didn’t get far; the beast swung it’s tail, narrowly avoiding hitting him with the spikes before sending him into a tree. But apparently, he hadn’t avoided it well enough. There was a large gash in his side, but he kept coming. Running back again, only to be deflected. This time the tail hit him in the leg, and hard; he felt a sharp snap as he was flung back again. There was an intense pain in the limb, and he knew it was broken and that he could not help.

“Get off of him!” Dean yelled, but it did nothing. It distracted it just long enough for Castiel to roll over onto his back, kicking up and hitting the dragon in the stomach with his talons. It created a gash in it’s scales, and Castiel scrambled off, not getting very far before the dragon was on him again.

 

                       Castiel cried out in pain as the beast sunk it’s fangs into the back of his neck, yanking backwards and tearing a chunk out of his scales. Castiel swung his tail again, getting between the dragon’s legs and leaving a deep gash with his spikes. It distracted him, letting him fly up long enough for the dragon to yank him back down, sending him crashing to the ground on his back again. Before him, Dean watched a great, brutal battle. Teeth and claw, slashing and snapping. Castiel had his teeth deep in the other’s scales, and it roared in agony and rage, thrashing it’s neck. The minute it got away, he heard Castiel scream, if it could be called that. A distressed roar, screeching with desperation for help that wasn’t coming. Dean couldn’t do a thing; his leg was badly damaged.

 

                       There was a massive scuffle, and Dean couldn’t see much but he was incredibly worried when he heard Castiel scream again; but this time it was pain. Extreme pain. There was too much in the way; Dean couldn’t see much, but Castiel seemed very distressed and his movements were slowed. Fear filled him; this might be the end for the dragon… Suddenly, there was another massive shadow overhead and an angry screeching. He looked up to find a massive, white dragon with…feathered wings. Bright, golden orange with frayed edges. But they were much bigger and brighter than Castiel’s. It had tendrils jutting from it’s head, like the dragon he knew so well, but it was missing horns. Unlike Castiel’s, this dragon’s eyes were bright gold.

 

                       As it descended, it’s clawed legs were extended towards the offending beast’s neck. Before it could react, it’s talons were sunk into the creature’s flesh. Body twisting as the clawed feet gripped around it’s throat, causing the vertebrae to snap with a loud crack. With the claws still imbedded deeply within the dead creature, the other dragon rose. Tearing the neck and head away from the body. Castiel took this chance to move, his massive body trembling as he pulled his way from beneath the carcass.

 

                       He limped towards Dean, as quickly as he could, before gripping the back of the hunter’s shirt with his teeth, practically dragging him back to the cave. The way there was slow and painful; Castiel was bleeding profusely, from wounds he could not quite see, not to mention that being moved with his fractured leg was very painful.

 

                       The moment they reached the cave, Dean was dropped unceremoniously as Castiel collapsed into a massive heap. He crawled a short way away from the hunter before Dean witnessed something he had yet to witness before. The dragon’s transformation. Even with his broken leg he still found it fascinating. The massive form turned into energy; pure, glowing energy that shrunk and became formless until it resembled something closer to human again. The light dissipated, pulling into the skin that started to form until Castiel was sitting in his more humanoid form. His head was bowed, chest heaving and clawed fingers clasped tightly against his stomach. Steam and blood was pouring from between his digits in such torrents it was akin to a flowing stream.

 

                       Dean managed to drag himself over to the ailing dragon, bringing himself into a sitting position and gripping at any part of his body he could find.

“Let me see that.” Dean said, gesturing to the wound beneath his hand. Castiel was covered in other wounds, but none bled worse than the one he had covered.

“No...” Castiel breathed out, shaking his head, hunching over and clasping his hand tighter.

“Maybe I can fix this, Cas. I’m sure you’ve got something here.” Dean said nervously, grasping at his hand. He was surprised that Castiel allowed him to move his hand, but what was beneath it explained why he hadn’t wanted to move.

 

                       There was a brief moment that he saw a massive, deep gash in his belly before it was shrouded by the slick and bloody mass that gushed from the wound. Long, thick, fleshy and bloody ropes of tissue spilling from the gaping maw of severed flesh. Castiel let out a startled sob, struggling to catch what fell to push it back in, but the ropes of organ unraveled and hung loose against his abdomen and his fingers. His fingers shook as he gathered what he could, pained whimpers and sobs fleeing into the air. Dean gripped at his hand, pushing his exposed intestinal tract back into his abdomen which earned him a pained shout. The dragon leaned against him heavily, his eyes starting to look dim and his face pale.

“Cas…Cas!” Dean shouted, holding his hand tightly to the wound on his stomach. He could feel the hot blood spurting with immense amounts of pressure against his hand, through his fingers and down his arm. “C’mon, stay with me. You’re gonna be okay…I’ll fix this, alright? There’s gotta be something…” Dean said, looking around. His eyes drifted towards the entrance of the cave, seeing it was open and he could run, or crawl, right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to. If he left now; left him like this, he would surely die.

“My sister…” Castiel mumbled, swallowing heavily. “I need my sister.”

“Your sister? You have a sister?”

“Lorlei…I need Lorlei.”

“How do I get to come here?”

“Call her,” Castiel said, “Call out her name…”

 

 

                       Dean didn’t even question it, just called out the name Castiel gave him. He wrapped one arm around Castiel as he did, the other still pressed to his stomach. He was breathing laboriously, looking incredibly tired. He ran a hand up his arm, wiping sweat-soaked hair from his face as it fell and trying to be generally comforting. After calling a few more times, the entrance was suddenly darkened by a massive beast blocking it’s light. The entrance was suddenly closed before the beast became energy like Castiel, before becoming more human.

 

 

                       Standing before them was a female. Arms and shins decorated with golden scales. Extending down one side, along her breasts and stomach. There was a mask of scales on her face similar to Castiel’s, and her slitted eyes were almost glowing gold. Long, dark red hair cascaded down her back while her bangs, contrasting the crimson, were blonde. Pointed ears jutted from the tresses, and Dean noted something unnatural about her. Four golden rings decorating the bridge of her nose, imbedded into the flesh and bone. Those golden wings of hers jutted from her back, and a long, white, spiked tail hung from her back end. While her head was bare of the horns that Castiel had, she had a smaller set of spikes extending from the middle of her cranium.

 

                       She strode over to them with determination, bending down and shoving Dean out of the way before placing her hand over the gaping wound. He looked up at her a bit wearily, to which she smiled warmly. “I’m here, baby brother…” she said, pushing her hand against the wound. She had a deep and melodious voice; deep seemed to run in the family. He winced, letting out a garbled noise of pain that turned into a shout as the space beneath her fingers glowed and glistened. Castiel reached out, grabbing at Dean’s arm as a way to hold onto something; anything. He could tell this hurt. But shortly enough, she was pulling away her hand, leaving a bloody but healed abdominal area. It merely left Castiel breathing a little heavily, trying to catch his breath.

“Who is your mate, Castiel?” she asked. The dragon opened his mouth, only to close it again before chewing at his lower lip.

“Him,” Castiel said, nodding towards the hunter.

“A human?!” she asked, already seeming annoyed. Dean wanted to retort; ask Castiel what he meant by that, but felt it best to keep quiet at the moment. “And a hunter, it seems. What have you done…?” she almost hissed.

“Lorlei, I-,”

“I understand this is your choice; it’s just a stupid one. You’ve made a huge mistake, Castiel…” Lorlei said, as she stood and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Castiel shouted, “Please, I need you to heal him…I need him to have two functioning legs.”

 

                       Lorlei seemed very annoyed that she had to heal Dean’s leg, but she knelt in front of him regardless, gripping the break. Dean hissed in pain, recoiling slightly which caused the female to give him a look that said she thought he was weak. He watched the glow from her hand, and felt the pain in his leg. The shifting of the snapped bone, moving and scraping against his insides. Pain shooting up the limb, and the feeling of something burning. But Dean kept his mouth shut; teeth fastened to his lip as he refused to show pain. When she was done, she stood quickly and turned once again. Giving one final pause, she turned to him and spoke with such rage and threat that it legitimately made him feel fear.

“You take care of him. You don’t let him get hurt. If you hurt him, I will end you. In the most painful way.”

With that, she was gone and the entrance was closed again.

“Mate, Cas?! Really?”

“Dean…I am very tired. There are things I need to explain to you, but not right now.” Castiel said, hauling himself up from the ground. His movements were a little shaky; body swaying as he attempted to walk. He stopped briefly at the stream to wash the blood from him before heading off to the room.

He stood at the entrance of the bedroom before turning to Dean and stopping him, “I need to be alone right now…”

“Can you give me any idea of what’s going on? What the hell happened out there today?”

Castiel leaned against the rock, not meeting his gaze completely before speaking.

“I’m late. Good day, Dean,” and with that, he was gone.

 

**Enemy dragon:**

 

 

 **Lorlei: Dragon and human** :

 


	9. Always Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Something gross happens in this chapter. Be warned. It's sweet, but it's gross.   
> Also this is a huge lore chapter. There's a lot of explanation on shit.

Dean’s heart was pounding as he bathed in the stream; it had never really stopped. He was working with the gash on his side. It was deep, and it was nasty, but it would heal. But it was just a gash; he didn’t care much about it. What he cared about was what Castiel had said to him before he left him. That he was late; and even though this statement would usually come from a female, everyone knew what that statement meant. This was gonna be fine, though. Everything was going to be fine…

 

                       Castiel was mistaken; he was fine. Perhaps it was just stress making him late, because Dean was a human and Castiel was not. Everyone knew that breeding between species was impossible, right? It was like a cat breeding with a dog; it just didn’t happen. Castiel was _not_ pregnant. There was just no way. He needed to calm down, though. If something ungodly had happened, and somehow he was, Dean couldn’t freak out. But God, he was freaked out. What the hell would even come out of that union?

 

                       What the hell had happened though? What had caused that seemingly unprovoked attack? What about Castiel’s sister, Lorlei? Why had she asked him about his mate? There was something weird going on here that Dean didn’t quite understand. He let out a rough sigh as he leaned against the bank; he didn’t know how long he’d sat there with his eyes closed, but he jumped when he felt something shift in the water. He wheeled around in panic, fist flying and smacking into the first thing that it came in contact with.

“Oh God!” he shouted, drawing his hand back. Before him, in the water, was Castiel looking very annoyed and pained as he placed his hand on the spot on his collar bone where he’d been punched.

“Sorry Cas, I just- you scared the shit out of me…Are you okay? How’s your uh…your intestines?”

“Fine, Dean…but I am very ill,” Castiel said, leaning against the bank and letting out a weak sigh. “I was so hot; I needed to come cool down…”

 

                       Tentatively, Dean placed a hand on one of Castiel’s folded wings, stroking downward somewhat soothingly. “Ill? How ill?”

“Very hot, very tired…I feel like I’m going to throw up…” Castiel said, leaning up slightly and bracing himself on the bank. The dragon let out a shaking breath, and Dean watched as he swallowed. “I…” Castiel said, voice slightly strained, before he shifted, more facing Dean. He was paler than usual, eyes tired and dazed. “I am going to throw up…Move,” Castiel said, shoving past him so that he was facing the stream, where the water flowed away from them. Bracing himself with one arm on the bank, almost immediately he lurched forward and let out a rough retching noise.

“Jesus…” Dean mumbled, moving back over to the dragon and running his hand along his spine.

 

                       Castiel seemed pretty miserable; he could feel the muscles in his midsection contracting as it forced what Dean could only assume was bile from his stomach. His body jerked so violently it looked as though he might break apart at any moment. He’d never seen him like this... The retching turned to gasping and slight wheezing, that turned to something different. His shoulders shook slightly and the noise of vomiting turned to what sounded like sobbing.

“Cas…? What is it?” Dean asked, but when he didn’t respond, he gripped the dragon by the shoulder and wheeled him around. He kept his head low, and no matter the attempts he made to lift his head, with his fingers beneath his chin, Castiel pulled away. Dean furrowed his brows at him in confusion and annoyance. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. Something was hurting him, and that hurt Dean. But why should that matter? Why did it hurt him?

 

                       Castiel was still crying, face turned away from him and looking upset, but Dean couldn’t help but find him pretty. Damn, he was pretty… He wasn’t sure if the dragon could do anything to make him any less attractive. But he really shouldn’t find a dragon pretty, either…

“Cas, please…”

Dean didn’t expect Castiel to break down like he did. He didn’t expect him to push his body close to his, face burrowed in his collar bone and arms wrapped around him as he sobbed into his skin. He didn’t know if he’d made things worse or not.

“I don’t want to do this!” he finally shouted, muffled by the sound of Dean’s torso in front of his face.

“Do what?” Dean asked, bewildered.

“Have children, Dean! I don’t want to-…I can’t-,” Castiel couldn’t even finish before he was breaking down into sobs again.

 

                       Dean could feel his pulse thud rapidly in his chest, and a cold chill creeping up the back of his spine, but he swallowed away all of that fear and tried to make things better. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to be soothing.

“You don’t even know if that’s the problem, do you?”

“I do…I am so sure, Dean and…this is so stupid. But I need you now. I need you so much…”

“What do you mean you need me?”

“I-,” Castiel was cut off, attempting to pull away briefly before his body lurched again and there was a projectile stream of acrid bile dripping down his naked chest. Castiel managed to pull away enough to vomit in front of him then, and he was still fairly shocked that he was covered in the slick digestive fluids. Castiel was a lot sicker than he’d anticipated… But he felt he shouldn’t move. Shouldn’t act like it bothered him. It did, slightly, but he was already upset.

 

                       By the time he had stopped, his sobbing became evident again as he struggled to get out the words, “I’m so sorry, don’t leave me.” Dean didn’t know how he would have left in the first place, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand seeing him like this. His mind was buzzing with countless thoughts on how to make this better but he couldn’t seem to come up with a single rational idea. With little care on what kind of reaction this was going to cause, he gripped Castiel’s shoulders, raising him up before placing his hands on either side of his face.

 

                       Holding him still, Dean kissed him and he kissed him hard. It tasted like bile and sadness, but that still didn’t make him any less beautiful. His lips were slick with saliva, tears, and digestive fluids, but the only reason he pulled away was to reassure him that it was okay, before bringing him back into hard, quick kisses. He couldn’t quite get Castiel to reciprocate, but he didn’t care, because maybe this was working. He pulled away finally to find Castiel a little less upset, and a little more shocked.

“You better?” Dean asked, finally realizing now that this was the first time he had kissed Castiel when it wasn’t sexual, and he wasn’t quite sure where that left him. Castiel nodded lightly, turning slightly towards the bank, “I want to go lay down…I’ll leave the room open for you. We should talk…”

 

 

                       Dean cleaned up and dressed before heading off to Castiel’s room, finding him laying there curled up on the bed. He was staring off into space, and Dean noted a bucket near the bed that had not been there previously. He raised himself slightly as Dean entered, sitting up on the bed. Dean sat next to him, feeling vaguely worried. The prospect of Castiel being pregnant really scared him, but the probability of it being true was stronger now. He needed to deal with that.

“Talk to me.”

“There is a very strong possibility that I am pregnant…More likely than not. I am mostly sure.”

“Okay…” Dean said, swallowing and trying to stay calm. “And…how do you figure this? You’re a dragon, right? And I’m not…? How does that work?”

“It’s possible…The Gassagen are just human enough to breed with them. It’s a hybrid, but it acts mainly the same as a regular dragon. But regardless; it’s possible. The fact of the matter is, I am very ill. I’ve missed my menstruation, which has always been exact. Then there’s the matter of what happened earlier…That part is complicated.”

“Please explain it, if possible…”

“The matter of the attack. Those dragons; the race that attacked me, they’re…they’re at war with us, so to speak. The Donasdogamatastos.”

“Why the hell are the names of your races so confusing?”

“Their ridiculously long name is a testament to how mean they are. There’s something special about our races. We are not typical dragons. The others are beasts; nothing more than animals. While us; we are believed to have come from something else. The Gassagen and the Donasdogamatastos are believed to come from the same place. We were once one, but something happened and we were split, and they mutated into something terrible. That’s not what I want to get into; the point is, they don’t like us. They are driven by a desire to destroy our species. They are less human than we; mostly feral. Very malicious.

They stop at nothing to wipe us off the planet. But their usual method is finding us, by chance. This cave; our caves. The places where the Gassagen reside. It’s cloaked by our power. It keeps us hidden from our main enemy. It disorients them; even if they see us enter our residence, the cloaking surrounding the cave will disorient them to the point that they won’t remember where we are, and they are forced to flee. They can’t get close… So they don’t know I’m here. The other dragons…we are at peace with them. Occasionally there are territorial issues…

Anyway, Gassagen…they give off a pheromone when pregnant. The Donasdogamatastos can smell it when we’re in the open. It’s how it found me, presumably. There is the chance that perhaps it found me by chance, but I highly doubt it.”

“So this is the only reasoning for thinking you’re pregnant?”

“No…As I said, they smell it, and so do our race. Because they are similar. That’s why my sister asked about a mate. She knew…She smelled it on me. Generally, pregnancy is caused by mating on _purpose._ With a chosen _mate._ She expressed disappointment because you were human. It isn’t forbidden to breed with humans, but it is frowned upon…Especially being that you tried to kill me.”

 

                       Castiel sighed again, shaking his head, “But that’s why I need you, Dean. Because I can’t leave this cave anymore. If I leave, I will be killed. But as you know, I require food. You require food. I need you to hunt for me; for us. Please, I know our first meeting involved…enslavement. But I never meant for it to go this far. I never meant to _need_ you, but now I do. And I’m begging you Dean, please…out of the goodness of your heart, do not let me die. If you don’t hunt for me, I will starve. Slowly and painfully. I will give birth to nothing but death, and I will die. I am young, Dean. I have not yet matured. I’m only forty; young for a dragon. There is much for me to do in my life…Please don’t let it end this soon,” Castiel finished a bit hopelessly. Dean could hear the crack in his voice, and he did not want him to cry again.

“I won’t.” Dean said, letting his hand drift to Castiel’s lower thigh, “I won’t let you die. You have to trust me, though. You have to let me go, and you have to believe that I will come back. Because I will; I promise.”

 

                       Dean jumped slightly when Castiel leaned against his shoulder, a bit sleepily it seemed but also with some gratitude and relief.

“Tell me some things…Tell me how your reproduction works. What I’m supposed to expect…”

He could feel Castiel nod against his shoulder before taking in a breath, “Females…Females give birth to one to two, humanoid children each gestation.”

“What is the difference between females and males if you all have the same parts?”

“Females and male are indeed different. The females have breasts, wider hips, slimmer bodies…More curves. They lack horns, have smaller penises. As you saw on my sister, she was much more feminine than I… Males lack breasts, have less curves, larger penises, horns…Either way, we don’t have the same parts completely. The males reproduce differently from the females. We lack the breasts to breast feed, so we produce a more feral, reptilian offspring.” Castiel sighed, voice wavering slightly as he continued to speak. “And…we produce ten to twenty eggs, because we overcompensate…A majority of the dragons born from a male die…That’s why we produce so many. Most will not hatch.

Male labor is very painful… We lack the same brains function as females, and it makes things worse. I do not look forward to it.”

“So, the babies…how to they behave?”

“…Stupidly. They are ravenous, feral creatures that enjoy eating and destroying things. As they mature they become more human. They will have the ability to shift forms, and they will learn to behave normally…”

 

                       Inside, Dean was panicking, but he tried to keep calm. Kids; fucking kids… Castiel had pretty much given him the key to his freedom; he could leave now. He could forget all about this cave and this beast that had captured him, but if he did, Castiel was as good as dead. He would birth dead eggs, and then die. He would kill Castiel and the children he had created. He couldn’t do that… And even if Castiel dying wasn’t the problem, Dean had a brief thought that he wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to leave anymore. But he let Castiel know none of that, and simply let his hand drift to the one sitting next to him.

“It will be okay,” he sighed. “You’ll be fine.”

 

                       Dean wasn’t sure how it happened, but things moved to a different beat from that point on. Despite the fact that Castiel was tired, they still managed to have sex for the first time in quite a long time, it seemed like. Dean had been around Castiel many times, but as the dragon lay on his back, legs pushed to his chest and claws raking hard against Dean’s spine, Dean felt like this was the first time he was really seeing him.


	10. The Slayer's Brother

“Come back…” Castiel had said, as he stood next to the entrance of the cave, hand on the wall as he braced himself.

“I will…”

                       That was when Dean set off; a bow strapped to his back, a firearm at his side, a dagger in his boot, a rope around his shoulder, and a sword in his holster. He wasn’t taking any more chances. He left Castiel waiting at the mouth of the cave, watching him as he walked away. Dean would hunt, but it would wait. After God knows how long of him being stuck in that cave, he needed to visit someone. Dean prayed he would find his way back, as he made his way down the mountain. With careful steps and movements so that he would not fall and crack his head open.

 

                       It was near noon when Dean arrived at the familiar village he’d spent a good portion of his life. He walked with uneasy, nervous steps as he made his way to the house he’d come to know. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say… Hello? Goodbye? But he had to let his brother know he was alive, and he had to see him one last time if that’s how things were going to be. He took a breath and pushed his way into the house. The fire was burning in the hearth, just like he remembered it the night before he left. The smell of what seemed like roasted rabbit was wafting vaguely through the air. Already gone, but its scent still lingering and smelling fondly of various spices and meat. Dean realized he missed that greatly. Maybe if Dean could get out more, bring more things into the cave, he could cook for himself, and for Castiel. Introduce him to fine cooking.

 

                       But the house appeared to be empty. Sam was not here; not where he could see him anyway. He thought of calling out when suddenly the familiar, massive form appeared in the doorway. He stopped dead, shock evident on his face and Dean found all he could do was stand there and utter the word, “Sammy…”

Before he knew it, Sam was pressed against him, arms wrapped around him so tightly that it might snap his spine. He finally pulled away, hands on Dean’s shoulders and eyes wide with shock.

“Dean…Dean, I…I thought you were dead! I’ve been looking for you for months! I was just about to give up…Where have you been?!”

“It’s a long, long story.” Dean said, letting out a soft chuckle that only masked his sadness. “But I can’t stay…I wanted to come here to say hello, and most likely…goodbye.”

“What do you mean you can’t stay? I don’t understand...”

“I’ve got an obligation, now. I…I fucked up someone’s life, and I’ve gotta make it right and…shit,” Dean said, sighing and putting his face in his hand. “I’d stay if I could; God, I would, but I gotta go.”

“Then please, tell me why the hell you can’t stay? Why we can’t just go back to our life?”

 

                       Dean groaned and pushed passed his brother, falling heavily upon the chair in front of the hearth, as Sam came to join him.

“Remember the dragon you found all those months back? The one I went after to hunt?”

“Vaguely…The feathered thing?”

“Yes, the…feathered thing.” Dean said, grumbling the last part. “Anyway, I found it, and I fucked up. God, I should’ve listened when Bartholomew told me those fuckers were smart as hell… He got me trapped in some cave. Kept me there. I thought I was fucking dead, but he…he fed me. He hunted for me, he showed me how to live life with him…then I found out something weird. He’s not just some normal dragon. He’s…he shifts. He can speak, he can think; he’s human. Well, his brain is human anyway, as is his body with a few…additional parts, but the point is I spent months cozying up to him, thinking he’d let me go when he trusted me enough…But I fucked up, again; we fucked up. He relies on me now. If I don’t go back, he’s going to die…”

“Dean…he kidnapped you, and you’re helping him? Why not just let him die?”

“Because...he doesn’t need to die. He’s still young, this wasn’t my intention…”

“What did you do to him…? How is it your fault he’s going to die?”

“I…shit,” Dean sighed, as he ran a hand across his face. He didn’t want to tell Sam what had happened, but he was prying. “It doesn’t matter, Sam…I gotta go back. I came back so I could see you one last time if I’m not able to come back…And to let you know that I am _not_ dead…I gotta go, Sammy. I’ll see you around, or not…probably not,” Dean said, standing.

“Dean, wait…” Sam said, suddenly standing as well. “If he wasn’t dying, and you had a choice to leave…would you go back?”

“…I don’t know. I don’t know the definite answer to that, but I feel like it would be…yes, I would go back.”

 

\---

 

                       Dean’s departure from his home was heartfelt. Full of regret and pleas. This was so fucking stupid; he could just stay there. He could forget about Castiel and go back to his life. He’d never know if he lived or died; but of course, Castiel would die. He wouldn’t be able to leave… He would starve. Dean wasn’t sure if he gave two shits about the eggs developing in Castiel’s he-womb, but he’d grown closer to Castiel than he’d like to admit. He couldn’t just let him die after Castiel had let him live. He tried to push the thoughts of leaving his brother behind from his mind, and focused on hunting. Heading back up the mountains and into the edge of the woods where he would hunt what he could.

 

                       Using mostly bow and firearm, and using dagger to slit the throat of some poor deer. As it laid there, writhing with its last breath and Dean took away its remaining life with such coldness. Slicing through the windpipe and spilling dark blood onto the forest floor, staining cute white flowers with gore and death. And as it was tied with the rest of the fresh cadavers, it was finally drug off to the cave to feed them. But Dean felt nervous. He felt watched… But each time he looked around, he found nothing. The fog was thick, and where there was no fog there was bush cover. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be attacking him… Perhaps a curious creature, thinking of the prey he carried. Perhaps an easy meal, if it could steal it carefully.

 

                       It took Dean longer than he would like to admit to find that damn cave again, but once he did, he stealthily slipped inside the currently open mouth. The area was empty, and as he let the ropes of mangled animals fall with a slick splat, there was a sudden presence behind him. A presence from the outside, a presence that was not his familiar Castiel. But it was indeed familiar. As he turned he saw the familiar visage of his brother.

“Sam, you fucking idiot!” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down, “You have to go!”

“I wanted to see where you really went. Dean I…You can’t just expect to leave me with this little notice. You’ve all I’ve known for the past several years. You expect me to just let you leave? Without a clear explanation as to why?”

“You have to go,” Dean insisted, fear and panic clear in his voice. “Fucking _go,_ Sam, before he-,”

 

                       Dean was cut off, as the stone behind him suddenly scraped and rumbled, and before Sam could even think about leaving the entrance was closed.

“I think he knows…I don’t know how, but …shit, give me your weapons.”

“Why?” Sam asked, but he could tell it wasn’t just stupid questioning. Sam was scared now, too.

“Because he will probably kill you if you don’t…”

Before Sam had the chance to hand over his weapons, Castiel was rounding the corner in his massive, bestial form. There was murder and defense in his eyes, and he was snarling and snapping in Sam’s face before Dean could do anything. But it seemed like more threat than it did murder; right now, at least.

“Cas, stop!”

Sam was dumfounded, hand slowly reaching for the sword in his belt when Dean grabbed his arm, pushing him against the wall and prying each weapon he could find from his person. Throwing them far away from both of them, before stepping in between them.

“He’s defenseless, Cas; stop! You can’t hurt him now, remember? It’s in your code.”

 

                       Castiel backed away, growling subsiding slowly as he moved. His body exploded into energy again; the formless mass that turned human until he was standing before them, looking irritated.

“I don’t know who you are, but I have no reason to trust you, and the ones I trust do not stay in the open…” the dragon practically growled. Turning to Dean, equally angry, he spoke with equal irritation. “And I _thought_ I had reason to trust you, and now you’re bringing back people to my home without my knowledge?”

“Cas, I swear it was an accident…”

“What is he talking about, Dean?”

“He…He wants to lock you away for a little while.”

“Lock me away?!”

“Sam, please just…do it.” Dean said, feeling terrible that he had to say this to his brother, but he didn’t want to cause trouble.

“Come with me. Bring him,” Castiel commanded, and Dean gripped Sam by the wrist. Castiel headed off, and Sam resisted at first but eventually came along. He seemed angry, but he kept quiet. Sam was smart; he didn’t want to make trouble. He would go along with Dean. He would be quiet.

 

                       They arrived at the same place Dean was at before he got out, and he gently urged his brother into the alcove. Even with Castiel listening, Dean brought himself forward and said lowly, “I will make this right. I promise…”

Sam said nothing, only glared at him before the walls went up. Castiel seemed exhausted by this; leaned against the wall near the makeshift door and breathed. And as he placed a hand gently upon his shoulder the dragon doubled over and vomited. It was short, but it left him panting and exhausted. Before Dean could say anything, he left. And when Dean followed him he found him not too far, kneeling at the stream and apparently sick for a second time.

 

                       Dean found himself kneeling next to him, cupping the water that wasn’t tainted and wiping it across him to cool his heated skin, trying to calm and soothe him the best he could. When he rose himself from the stream, arms shaking and breath drawing in a wheezing rattle, he spoke to him again with anger.

“Why would you bring someone here?!”

“I swear, it was an accident! I tried to make him leave; how did you even know he was here?”

“Because I know what is in my home. What is supposed to be, and what’s not. I know of the creatures skittering around this cave and going about this life. I know of you, and I knew of him and I knew he did not belong.”

“I went to hunt for you and I wanted to say goodbye to him…He’s my brother. We grew up together and I wanted to see him one last time if I never got to see him again… The stupid sonofabitch followed me, though-I’m sorry, it was an accident. Just let him go, Christ…”

“I can’t do that…I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Dean let out a deep, annoyed groan as he tilted his head back, “Cas, come on, this is stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid! I don’t know him; I can’t trust that he’ll keep my secret.”

 

                       Dean kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t force Castiel to trust him; he hadn’t been able to before. He ran his hand along his side, still wet from the river’s water, trying to at least get him to calm down. And as his fingers glided along his sides, Dean wondered just how he’d fallen into the trap of this succubus who took the form of a dragon. How he’d managed to weave his way into his heart and left the remaining strings of his body wrapped and curled around those pretty clawed fingers of his.


	11. Open The Door

“Open the door…” Dean breathed out, with his body tight to the dragon’s, cock embedded in that dripping hole between his legs.

“No…” he breathed out, irritation in his voice masked mostly by the whine of pleasure.

“Please open the door…” Dean said again, snapping his hips forward and causing such a gasp from Castiel it sounded like his lungs might collapse. His fingers clutched tightly into those sheets that were scarred with the holes of their almost constant fucking. His hips snapping forward again as his partner convulsed and let out a breathless cry.

“Fuck-yes, yes…” he breathed out, a mewling moan fleeing from his lips with the words that carried through the air.

“Open the door,” he said with another full thrust causing the dragon to let another long, drawn out agreement. Castiel shook his head, but still cried out a breathless moan as his hips writhed against Dean’s cock. But Dean was too close, and with a second hard thrust he felt himself spilling into his passage. But with desperation in his heart to manipulate him into opening that door, he pulled out and replaced his cock with his fingers. Wet and oozing with his own come and Castiel’s secretions.

 

                       And when he was close, he asked him again and as he let out another drawn out ‘yes’, he came hard. Ejaculation of both kinds; spurting down upon his arm from that convulsing cavern while his cock dripped the pearlescent, burning fluid.

“You make such a mess..Open the door,” he repeated again. Castiel laid there panting, before speaking “No,” with a voice hoarse and fucked out.

“Damn it, Cas!”

“Just because I say ‘yes’ during sex doesn’t mean I really mean it.”

“It was worth a try…” Dean said, sitting up from his position on the bed. Castiel scooted back, legs spread still and staring at him.

“Your constant badgering to let your brother out has become annoying. I let him out. Just not when you hunt…I don’t trust him.”

“I mean let him out. Let him leave! He’s done nothing wrong, Castiel!” Dean shouted, not using his full name a majority of the time but it seemed like this called for it.

“Go see your brother…” Castiel breathed, leaning his head against the headboard, exasperated. He reached behind him, touching a nearby pillar that crackled with energy as he touched it. Running through the ground and towards where their door had been shut.

“Why is that apparently you’ve been able to open and close these things long distance, but you just started doing it?”

“It requires additional energy… But as I’m laying here, I don’t require preserving energy. I prefer to do things up close. It’s why I got so sick the day I locked your brother away… I felt as though I was about to faint.”

 

                       Dean nodded briefly, standing and righting his pants moments later. Within a few moments, he was leaving. He heard the stone slide behind him, rattling the ground beneath his feet as he walked. It didn’t take him long to find Sam sitting near the stream, staring absentmindedly into the water.

“Sam…” Dean said, sitting next to him. It hadn’t been long before Castiel let him out, but Castiel refused to let him out while Dean was gone. Sam was pissed at first; angry enough to sock Dean one, but that was initial irritation. He realized he had no reason to really sock Dean. Sam had, more or less, gotten himself into this mess. He had to come after Dean; had to see what he was doing. Had to get himself trapped. But Dean still felt bad.

“I’m sorry…”

“I know…” Sam mumbled, still staring off into the distance. “It was my fault too, but…I don’t belong here. Neither of us do, Dean. But I can see that you care…As terrible as I should think he is, he makes convincing arguments. He has a certain…charm. But I don’t understand why you act like his problem is yours…”

“Because it is…”

“What is his problem, exactly? Can he not hunt because he’s sick? I don’t understand how you did this…”

“That’s not why he can’t hunt…”

“Then what is it, Dean?! I’ve sat here on my ass for…I’ve lost count; I’ve lost count on the damn days and I still don’t know why the hell I’m here!”

“He…” he breathed out, really not wanting to tell Sam much of anything. “He’s pregnant…And it’s my fault. I did this. He’s giving off…pheromones or something and there’s these…these assholes who can’t stand his race, for whatever reason. They smell it, and they come from him. The last time we went hunting, this fucking asshole came out of nowhere and just…beat the shit out of him. Slit his belly open and I thought that was it; that he was gone… And this beautiful dragon came from nowhere; snapped it’s neck and we got away. He saved me. My leg was snapped; he dragged me back to the cave…and he was dying. I could have let him die; dragged myself back to the village, but I couldn’t.

I watched his guts spill out right in front of me; I tried so hard to push them back in. I burned my hands on the blood and the steam pouring out of that fucking…hole that I failed to stop from happening. I could have let him die but the mere thought of that happening filled me with so much panic that I could have probably lost my mind. I don’t know why but I care about him a lot. He’s managed to burrow into my heart and I can’t get him out…”

“Pregnant? Really?” Sam said, groaning slightly. “Dean…”

“I’m sorry, Sam!”

“Then it’s probably not safe for him here…”

“What? How is it not safe?”

“Well, less safe, rather…He’s probably pretty unhappy. If he wasn’t miserable here before, he’s probably miserable now. He’s pregnant and living in a damn cave. That’s gotta be shitty.”

“What the hell do you suggest?”

“Is there any way we can get him out of here? Somewhere nice? Warm? Safe…? With a bed, the luxuries of life…”

“Why do you care so much?”

“…I feel kind of bad for him. What do you want? Do you care enough about him to give him something good, or do you care only enough to let him survive?”

“I…I don’t know. But he probably does deserve better.”

 

                       Sam let out a soft laugh, “You know, I wanted to hate him. I wanted him to be manipulative and evil because I didn’t think you could ever leave me like you did. But I understand now. He’s not like that…You just care. And as much as I wanted to hate him, I can’t. Because I can’t hate my big brother’s first _real_ love.”

“Yeah-hey, what?!”

“Come on, Dean… You gave up your freedom, for him. You’re practically his bitch. Whipped; whipped and in love.”

“Shut up…No.”

But dear lord, Sam had a point…

 

\---

 

                       Sam and Dean talked for quite some time by that stream. Discussing thoughts of their future possibilities, and with that in mind they finally made their way to the exhausted dragon. Dean managed to get him to let him in before they talked.

“Cas, got a proposition for you,” Dean said as he stepped in, walking up to the bed where he now sat.

“What kind of a proposition?” he inquired, though he sounded a little annoyed.

“We’ve been talking…” Sam said, coming to stand next to Dean. “We think we should take you home with us, if it’s possible.”

“What? Why would I…I don’t understand.”

“Is there any way you can leave this cave? Is there any way you can _move?_ ”

“It is possible…But I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“We want to move you,” Sam said, sounding very matter-o-fact about the whole thing. “We just want to make you comfortable.”

“What reason would you have to want to make me comfortable when I’ve been keeping you in this cave?”

“…Listen, I’m a nice guy, Cas. And as unhappy as I am about being stuck in a cave, being pregnant and stuck in a cave has got to be really shitty.”

“Dean!” Castiel shouted, looking taken aback by the news he’d just received.

“He was gonna find out eventually! But he has a point…The fact of the matter is, I know it’s tough here, and I know the next few months are going to be even tougher. Living here is, frankly, dangerous… For both of us. I mean, when you guys mate, you’ve usually got another dragon that can go out and hunt, right?”

“This is true…”

“But I’m not a dragon. I can’t hunt like you guys. Yeah, I hunt dragons; but that’s different. I don’t need to hunt them to survive. When I can’t track a dragon, then I can’t track one. I go home, and I’m a little unhappy but I’ve got food in my belly and I’m surviving. Truth is, I might not be able to keep providing for you, Cas. But if I took you home...I would. I could go back to doing what I do. I could earn my money and give you the food that I can almost guarantee will be available, right down the road. You’ll be warm, you’ll be safe. You’ll have a nice bed, a warm bath. A toilet…”

“But I’m a dragon, Dean…Living amongst men. If I’m discovered…”

“We’ll keep you hidden, Cas. I promise you,” Sam chimed in.

“I don’t know…This seems suspicious. My whole reason for keeping the both of you here was to keep myself safe…But you make a point. You _aren’t_ a dragon. I don’t understand why you would want to help me so much, though.”

“Because I…care,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel gave out a soft sigh, averting his eyes from the both of them. “I will consider it, but don’t get your hopes up…”

 

\---

 

                       Dean was counting each day. Each day that he was to remain in that cave except for hunting. When he would go out, struggling for food and sometimes come back with nothing. He was paying attention to each interaction between his brother and what seemed like his lover. Castiel was more trusting. He let Sam roam free, now, and the two of them seemed to be growing close. Dean realized Sam was less concerned about killing Castiel, and more about studying him. It was something Sam had always done. Studying, rather than killing. Of course, he killed; he killed a lot. But after he killed, he studied, and then he sold. Though sometimes, he had the tendency to study while they were alive from afar.

 

                       Day in and day out, Dean was leaving, and more and more often he was coming back with less and less food. It wasn’t on purpose; he actually wasn’t finding a lot of food. With food scarce, it was then that Castiel made a choice.

“I accept…” he said, wandering out of his room one night. Dean almost didn’t notice anymore, but Castiel was starting to change. The normally flattened expanse of his belly was starting to curve ever so slightly. It was something no one really talked about, though.

“You accept?” Dean asked, rising from his place at the stream. It seemed to be where they spent a lot of their time.

“I will leave with you. I spent much time contemplating this, but I realize now that, quite frankly…I am hungry, and there is not enough food. But this doesn’t mean me staying there forever. I will need some things…mainly, clothes. It’s better to be inconspicuous and not go naked…I will need something to cover most of my body. Including my face.”

“I have an idea for that…”

“I will also need my sister, briefly… I realize the two of you got off on the wrong foot, so to speak, but she needs to cloak me. Which brings me to the next part of my…er, demands. Lorlei will have to cloak me. It gives me a temporary cloaking from the enemy. For 24 hours I will be hidden, which means I will need to get there in less than 24 hours. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to move very fast. I need to move slowly; I cannot run. I must walk. Anything that exerts a lot of energy will more or less give me away. I’d also need to rest every so often…”

“Works for me...What are you going to do about the house?”

“I can cloak the house, like this cave. All should go well after that, barring the invasion of some random human.”

“No one really pays much attention to us…Tomorrow, I’ll go get you something to wear and we’ll make arrangements. Does that work?”

“Yes…”

Finally, Dean was going home…


	12. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the bottom of this chapter

It was early morning when Lorlei arrived, after Castiel had called her shortly before. The three of them stood in the doorway, Dean standing by holding the clothes Castiel would wear. A simple robe; similar to those worn by monks. It was long, covering most of his body and the hood would cover the scales on his eyes when he needed them covered.

“You called? Oh Lord…Are you collecting humans now?”

“No, I-I need your help…” Castiel said, and Dean heard nervousness in his voice. “I need you to cloak me. I’m leaving…”

“Leaving?! Now? Do you really think that’s such a good idea? Where will you go?”

“It doesn’t matter, but food is scarce, and I need to move on for a little while. Until I am able to hunt again. I won’t leave this home; I will be back eventually…”

Lorlei sighed, stepping forward and placing her fingers gently upon his forehead. There was a brief shimmer of light that glittered along his body before dissipating into a faint sparkle that fell upon the cave floor. “I wish you luck…”

“I will be back. I promise…”

Lorlei turned from him and soon at entrance, turning back only to look at her brother, and the two brothers she didn’t know much about.

“Keep him alive, or I will skin you.”

 

                       In a flash of light, she was a great winged beast that took off into the air with not a glance backwards.

“It’s mostly empty threat, but I’d appreciate it if you kept me alive…Right…okay, we’d better get going. I need to look as inconspicuous as possible, so give me a second…”

                       The dragon took in a breath as he suddenly braced himself using the wall of the cave. His breathing slowed, becoming even until he suddenly held his breath. The horns upon his head suddenly began to shift, pulling inwards with a slick, squishing noise. He whimpered slightly as he did this, eyes closed tightly from what appeared to be pain. Then came the wings, slickly sliding into his body, and then the tail. When this was done, he was left panting slightly from the effort, and from the pain. He looked fairly different…

“This is not recommended. I will not be doing this regularly. Do you understand?”

Dean only nodded, and Castiel came to take the clothes from him. He put them on quickly, throwing the hood over his head and straightening his robes.

“Come on, then,” he said, sauntering outside somewhat slowly. He laid his hand upon the wall where the cave’s entrance lay before sending the energy through it, watching with a bit of melancholy as it closed. Then they began their slow descent.

 

                       Sam, ever the curious, spoke up about Lorlei’s appearance moments down the mountain.

“Cas…Why is it that your sister has rings in her nose bridge? Are they visible when she’s a dragon?”

“They’re not,” both Dean and Castiel said almost in unison, causing the two of them to give brief glances towards each other before Castiel continued.

“Lorlei is nearly two-hundred years old. She is a mature dragon. Long ago, about a hundred years ago when she came into maturity, things were different. When more of our kind stalked the land, we had rituals and rules. She was given those rings as a sign of coming of age. Forged from gold in the fires of our ancestors, they were imbedded in the very bone. They do not grow; they merely stay locked inside her skull until she transforms. The magic to create something that will shift with the dragon is complicated; it is only reserved for elders.”

“Two-hundred isn’t an elder?”

“No. In human years you might consider her to be about thirty. Elders are usually thousands of years old. But we’ve lost many of our elders, due to both age and murder. Regardless, we’ve lost our rituals over the years. The Gassagen used to be a clan, but we’ve split up over the years and gone into hiding due to enemies; hunters, and the Donasdogamatastos. It’s harder to find us if we’re split up. So rituals became less important than survival. Typically though, when we come into age we are given jewels to decorate ourselves with. They are usually permanent. A sign of true adulthood.”

“Does that make you a teen, then? Even if you are able to reproduce?”

“No…I am an adult, just a young one. I have everything to make me an adult; the ability to reproduce, and the age, but I lack the full maturity. When a dragon reaches maturity, it’s wings increase and size and it’s feather’s become more colorful and brilliant.”

“Your species honestly fascinates me, Cas…” Sam said, gripping onto his arm before Dean had the chance to, to help him down a rocky outcrop. “I never thought I’d have the chance to study a dragon. As much as I enjoy hunting, they fascinate me in other ways.”

“You humans all seem so fascinated by the simplest things. But I suppose if our species was as…dull as yours, I’d be fascinated too. There is so much that goes unnoticed buy your race, it’s unbelievable… The dragons of old. Dragons who walk as men, men who walk as dragons… You have no idea the amount of humans who were are actually dragons, and how many dragons were once human…Well, actually, that number has diminished…”

“Men walking as dragons…?”

“There is a ritual to turn a man into a dragon, and a dragon into a man. Neither of them are much worth it…One should only change in the most extreme of circumstances, but some do it because they want…”

“I’m going to let your insult slide on account of that being very valuable information…” Sam mumbled.

 

                       Within the next hour or so, the trio were once again sat at a stream, as they seemed to have done the past several months; a rest was in order. It was in a mostly flattened, rocky area in a valley, where a waterfall poured torrents of water into a rushing, waiting stream. The only sound was the sound of water, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was eerily quiet, in any other sense though. There was something off about the place. Something about this peace that didn’t seem like it could last for very long. They were right…After having sat there for nearly an hour, it seemed the wind picked up very suddenly. Though it wasn’t the wind, it was the beating of wings. The peace was too short lasted as a massive, feathered dragon landed before them. Silvery white scales glistening in the dull sunlight, shimmering along it’s snow colored feathers, where an icy blue ran through the arms of it’s wings. A pendant laid embedded in it’s forehead, where a silvery outline lay beneath, while a coil of silver wrapped around its neck. Glimmering bracelets were cuffed along it’s arms, which ended in hands with silver claws.

 

                       Moments later, it’s body was overtaken by the burst of energy Dean had become familiar with. Appearing as a pale humanoid figure, it lacked most of the markings he had seen on other humanoid dragons, which was a whopping number of two. It seemed it’s body was covered in tiny scales, seeming to glisten when hit with the right light. The eyes set in it’s skull were like ice; shimmering and glowing at the iris in a sea of off white sclera, missing it’s pupil it seemed. It’s hair was long and silver on one side, while the other was shorter. It appeared not male, or female inherently. It’s face and body shape feminine, and it’s chest area composed of small breasts. It seemed more androgynous than anything.

“Castiel, I urge you to go back…Nothing good lies beyond this path,” the creature said, it’s voice low and melodious but still stuck between feminine and masculine.

“Why have you come, Estalia? I’ve told my sister I plan to come back…”

“You don’t understand…There’s something bigger than just you here. You intend to go to the human village, correct? Your sister found this knowledge within the recesses of your mind as she spoke to you, searching out your intended whereabouts so that you may stay safe…”

“If it’s the humans that worry you, I know how to hide.”

“The humans are of little concern to me…I am forbidden to speak of the horrors you may awaken by traveling there, and so I only urge that you turn back unless it is truly prominent that you continue.”

“I am unable to hunt…My mate; this human, lacks the ability to hunt like a dragon. His way of caring for me is to move me. Food is becoming scarce and he lacks the ability to find more.”

“Can he not hunt elsewhere?”

“Look…” Dean said, cutting himself off for a moment, eyes glancing about as if in thought, mouth pursed tight before uttering the next words, “Pal…This is the best chance for him there is. There’s no chance I’m gonna find food, or even come back alive. You want him starving in that cave up there?”

“It’s true…” Castiel responded.

The other dragon sighed, “Be careful, then. Please…” Then it was gone.

“We should get going…” Castiel said, suddenly standing from the stream.

 

                       Confused, Dean followed. “You wanna tell me what that was about? Who was...that?”

“Estalia is their name. They’re one of the elder dragons. I’m not quite sure why they were speaking to my sister…”

“ _That’s_ an elder!? It’s gorgeous! I pictured…old wrinkly hides and all.”

“Our species may grow old but we still retain the beauty of youth… By your confusion you probably wonder the gender- it’s both. I’m not going to attempt to explain the differences; it’s extremely complicated.”

“Hermaphroditic?” Sam asked, finally standing from the stream.

“Indeed…It makes me nervous, though. Why did they warn me…?”

“I don’t know, Cas, but we should get going. Everything’ll be fine, I promise…”

“I suppose you’re right...It is my only chance at survival.” Castiel said with a sigh, stretching his limbs briefly, concealing a wince beneath the hood upon his head. “Let’s go.”

 

                       They made their way down the mountain moments later, dodging rocky outcrops in favor of something smoother. It seemed almost impossibly slow, knowing they had to be slow to avoid attracting the enemy. When they finally reached the village, the sun was low in the sky and the flickering of fire was what helped them find the village. The area wasn’t bustling with activity at the moment; a few stragglers getting in off the street. The sounds of the blacksmith pounding and smithing steel circling the air, accompanied by the sounds of the bellows from beneath the flame. There was the sound of lute, song and drunken merriment drifting from the tavern down the road. Men shouting of their tales of victory, the occasional drunken brawl… It was small, and it was a little rough around the edges, but it was home. And Dean realized just how much he missed the sounds of small town life.

 

                       Stealthily, they slipped inside. What greeted them was darkness and dust but it filled them with relief to finally be home. Sam ran ahead and gathered firewood for the hearth to light some of the darkness, throwing it inside and bringing light to the darkness. He went elsewhere to work on some of the hanging oil lamps around the house and such. Dean noticed that even inside, Castiel’s movements were both slow and pained.

“Are you okay…?”

“That is a relative question, but yes…” he said, wandering over to a nearby wall and placing his hand upon it. There was a faint glimmer that ran through the wood of the house; only visible to those very close by it. The most noticeable of things that happened was the sudden increase in pressure, and the flames that flared their fiery tendrils at the air as though angered. All of these things diminished within a few moments, and Castiel let his hand fall, “It’s done. We’re safe.” He turned from the wall towards Dean, pushing the hood back on his head and revealing a mass of blood wetting the hair on his head and trickling down the side of his face, “I need a bath, and I need to take these clothes off…”

“Christ, what happened to you?”

“I’m trying to force everything that is normally outside to stay inside…It’s making me bleed. It’s actually quite painful.”

Dean sighed, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him further into the house until they reached the bath area. “Get undressed, I’ll get the bath drawn for you,” he said, heading over to the well.

 

                       Dean turned after a few trips of drawing water to find the dragon leaned against the tub, naked and seemingly in pain as his horns began to breach the skin. Pushing out further and further until they stood out as they had, wet and shimmering with blood and other fluids Dean couldn’t identify. He noticed, as his wings began to breach that there was blood running down his back and sides, and once the bloody feathers emerged, he ruffled them and sent crimson droplets and streaks raining down upon the ground.

 

                       When the bath was ready, Dean stripped down as well and led the dragon into the tub. He figured he would help scrub the blood off, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t been naked together before. Castiel sighed with utmost content, sinking into the bath.

“It’s so warm…” he practically moaned, and Dean only laughed, but couldn’t help the content sigh that drifted from his lips either as he entered, settling in front of him. “You’ve never had this, have you?”

“No…it’s always been cold,” he said, shifting further into the bath. Dean merely chuckled as he reached forward, hand wet, to start to wipe away the blood. The dragon leaned into the touch, eyes drifting shut again at the movements. He seemed very comfortable.

 

                       After a few moments of what was supposed to be productive, they were caught up softly in each other’s mouths, with Dean’s hand gripping in the dragon’s sticky, bloodied hair. Castiel pulled away moments later, breath coming a little heavy.

“Why are you so sweet to me?” Castiel asked, noticing as Dean didn’t pause in his kisses; kissing down the side of his jaw.

“I don’t know…”

“I don’t deserve this…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve done such wrong to you…”

“And you’ve kept me with you, and only you for months, and now you’re all that I want…” Dean mumbled against his skin.

 

                       Several kisses later, breaths fleeing from their lips, Castiel was on Dean’s lap. They moved in unison together, not for the goal of orgasm, but for comfort and closeness. With their lips close together, breathing into each other’s space. And when they reached their climax, it was not with roughness or desire. It was not an explosion, but merely a pleasing burst of pleasure and relief. Something to take away the pain. They sat there for several moments, with Dean’s fingers threaded through the dragon’s hair, just breathing until it returned to normal.

“You’re so pretty, Cas…” Dean mumbled, sleepy and sated. Castiel only laughed, but it was a sad laugh. “Not anymore…”

“What do you mean, not anymore?”

“Pregnancy doesn’t make anyone pretty, Dean…I’m sure you’ve noticed my body is changing, and not for the better.”

“I think it’s cute…” Dean said, running his hand down the dragon’s hip. “It’s not ugly at all…”

“Whatever you say…” he mumbled, suddenly turning and scraping his tail against Dean’s leg a little painfully. “Help me with my wings, please.”

“Bossy…” Dean joked, reaching his hands up to run through the feathers. They were sticky and bloody, but Dean knew how to get blood out of fine things. It almost seemed normal, helping Castiel bathe here, in his bath. Like he was meant to be here, and it seemed like their life would go back to normal like nothing had changed. He only hoped Castiel did well around here.

 

**ART**

 

**Estalia**

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	13. The Dark Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the bottom of this chapter

 

                       The few days after Castiel had arrived were filled with rumors and gawkers. Villagers watching the house and whispering about the walls had been dark for months, suddenly lit again. Suddenly as it had been before, and Dean knew he couldn’t just come back after months and pretend nothing had happened. There were those who were curious as to where they had been; why the two brothers had suddenly disappeared and come back with another. There were some who had seen them return with Castiel, and their minds were abuzz with rumors and confusion. There were whispers in the wind. Dean had to explain those rumors. That the man who had returned was a lover Dean had found hunting. They had stayed together for a while, and Dean had brought him home. But this lover was shy; detested unknown company, and it was a wonder that Dean had wooed him in the first place. So the village was to stay away from his house, to leave the man alone and they would be fine. Sam had been away, hunting for many months and tracking a nice dragon, but he had lost it. This was the story they stuck to.

 

                       The village was stupid; or perhaps they were smart. Never guessing that what Dean held in his house was a dragon. As far as he knew, the only two in the village that knew of a dragon in humanoid form was the two brothers. But regardless, Castiel remained nervous for a few days. He wandered about the house quietly, learning it’s walls before he finally became a bit more at ease. He knew where to hide if he needed to, and he had a particular affinity to the cellar. So it should come to no surprise where Dean found him a few days after everything had settled. Nevertheless though, it did.

 

                       He awoke one morning to an absent bed and the moans of what sounded like death in his cellar. Pained and echoing from the stone walls and up through the cracks of the cellar door. Concerned, Dean leapt from his bed, pulling on a nearby pair of pants and rushing from the room. The wood was a bit chilly against his feet, but that was nothing compared to the stone. Once he was in the cellar he made his way deeper in, until he found Castiel knelt in dull flame on the floor. His hands were bloodied, gripping at his wings which were slack and broken, bleeding and balding. Their feathers falling from the flesh, red and slick with blood.

“Cas…” Dean said, rushing forward and kneeling by him. He found, in front of him, a mass of feathers stuck together, in some semblance of order and shape but it appeared unfinished. “What happened?”

“Maturity…” Castiel ground out, rough and pained. “I am growing my mature wings…It’s painful.”

“Why are you down here?”

“I am making a nest with the feathers I am losing. A place to keep my eggs… I want it to be here. I want to have my babies here…”

“In the cellar…?”

“It’s quiet…It’s like home-” he said, cut off as he let out a sudden groan. There was a hollow crack within his body, and his wings shifted without his will. It was damp, like a limb being ripped from its socket; the tendons snapping along with the bone. He pulled his hands away, with a clump of feathers sticky with blood. He gathered them up, slicking them with blood and putting them with the rest of the pile. Eventually, Dean assumed, this would make a nest. He leaned forward suddenly, bracing himself on the ground with his hands and letting out a rough cry as the snapping came back. In the dim light he saw as bone extended from flesh and pulled apart from his back, sending a gush of blood down his spine. He let out a whimpering sob as he leaned down forward, breathing heavy and fingers bloody.

“Fuck…” he huffed.

“Is it supposed to hurt so badly?”

“No…I’m not supposed to do this now. I’m too young…It’s not blocking the pain.”

“Why is this happening?”

“Hormones…”

“You can get through this, right?” Dean said, running his hand along his shoulder. “I mean, you get through your bones breaking and growin’ out of your skin, you get through labor like nothing, right? You were so afraid about that…”

“No…no,” he breathed, voice shaking a little. “With females, they have a block. It blocks the pain; enough of it, but gives them adrenalin. But we don’t have a block, and it’s the pain that gives us the adrenalin to get through it. So the block goes away…It goes away almost completely; only on the cusp of pain terrible enough to keep us from passing out. Our biology is absolutely ridiculous…”

 

                       Dean sighed, clicking his tongue slightly before putting his hand on his shoulder. This was terrible…It had grown even worse when the dragon let out a scream that sounded like he might shout out his throat. The cracking came back, the ripping and tearing of flesh in the air and Dean watched as his wings extended; the bone, that is, but there was nothing there. Nothing but bone and an exposed hole in his back. Everything had ripped away, bits of skin, flesh and tendon hanging from the place on the wing that still had skin. Then he was panting; struggling to breathe and almost crying from pain, and Dean decided he was done.

“I’ll be right back…” Dean said, jumping to his feet and running upstairs. He headed into Sam’s room, further from the cellar than his own, and went to wake him.

“Sam!” he shouted, shaking his giant of a brother, who woke with a start.

“Jesus, what?”

“I need your help...Get up, meet me by the cellar. Get some blankets and a pillow.”

 

                       Without waiting, Dean made his way from Sam’s room, heading through the hallways where they kept their medical supplies. He grabbed a jar and a rag; the remedy for what the two of them used when they were so badly injured they just needed to be knocked out. When he returned to the cellar, Sam was waiting for him there, with a bundle of bedclothes in his arms.

“What’s going on?”

“Cas…has a problem. It’s not fair to let him stay awake for it…I’m gonna put him to sleep. I just can’t listen to him in such pain; he needs to be asleep for this. If I need you to restrain him, will you?”

“I suppose…” Sam said, confusion evident. The two of them made their way downstairs, where Castiel still remained, braced on his knees and elbows as his sides heaved in the struggle to breathe normally. His wings were pushed out further now, more of the bone beneath it exposed, leaving more flesh hanging from the wing.

“Jesus…”Sam mumbled beneath his breath as they made their way over, “Is this normal?”

“Evidently…”

 

                       Dean slipped beside him, slowly kneeling down and placing a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to jerk away and hiss in pain.

“Shit…Can you sit up for a second?”

Castiel only nodded, not speaking as he slowly raised himself and his wings tilted back like broken, limp noodles. He was trembling slightly, looking pale and a little sick. Dean grabbed the blanket from Sam, urging it forward and commanding that he move slightly to slip it beneath him. Castiel didn’t seem to have the energy to even question or fight about it, he just did as he was told. When they were situated beneath him he collapsed back into a heap.

“Do me a favor…” Dean said, running his fingers gently along his arm, “Please go to sleep.”

“Even if I could, I need to stay awake. I need to make my nest-need to make sure my wings don’t become deformed…” Castiel mumbled, sounding almost a bit manic as he spoke, with his words stuttered and wavering.

“I’ll build your nest…What is it you have to do to stop them from growing in deformed?”

“I need to be on my front…to make sure they’re exposed,” he said, groaning in pain afterwards as the wings shifted again. Dean picked up the jar and rag he had set down briefly and held them up for him to see, “This can put you to sleep. I’ll make sure you stay on your front, and I’ll build your nest.”

“It won’t kill me, will it?”

“No, it won’t. I promise,” Dean said, already pouring the liquid onto the rag before even waiting for Castiel to respond. But he did; he nodded, and took in a breath.

                       Dean moved the rag to cover his mouth and nose before commanding he breathe in, and before he knew it he was helping Castiel to lay down as his limbs tired, and his eyelids fluttered as his mind fought even though he knew he wanted to sleep. He was out like a light within a few moments. Then, Dean worked. As the feathers fell, bit by bit, Dean put them together to create a nest. It took quite some time; they fell slowly, and Dean used a different substance rather than blood to stick them together. He knew, after some time, blood would start to smell very bad. After some time, the wings looked worse and worse, and Dean hoped they got better.

 

                       An hour after he fell into slumber, the skin on his wings lay bare and scarred. A sizeable nest lay in the corner nearby, finally finished, and Dean could only watch from now on. As pieces of flesh still remained, hanging high as his muscles worked to push out growing bone, even unconscious. For quite some time they stood high, masses of exposed bone jutting from two sides of flesh, but that soon changed. The flesh on the wings began to melt. Bubbling into pustules that burst, bleeding and filled with other fluids Dean couldn’t identify. They burst, and they burst over and over until the surrounding area and even he and Sam were dotted with bits of blood. By the time they had all burst there was barely any remaining skin, until that too seemed to melt from the bone.

 

                       When the muscle lay exposed to the air it began to dry, and then it began to rot at surprising speed. Infection spreading through the veins like blood through water. It turned to rot; blackened and stinking until it was nothing but black sludge that dripped like a viscous liquid from the bone, stripping the fat that it had infected as well and it fell upon the now ruined blanket with heavy splattering noises. At some point, Castiel started to wake up, whimpering and confused, and Dean gave him little choice in the matter as he put him to sleep again.

 

                       For a time, there was nothing but bone jutting from his back, that laid limp and cracked. The bones grew a bit of the remainder, filling in the cracks, forming new joints, creating new cartilage. Sam was fascinated, Dean was mildly disgusted. His brother was sitting nearby, scribbling in a journal in the dull light. The paper was messy; it was bloodied and some of it ripped as he wrote but he dared not stop. He wanted to document everything.

 

                       From the gaping maw of flesh in his back, muscle came. Creeping along the bones like vines, bringing along fat and various other tissues. Then came the skin, covering the bone like a drape until it was naked, but formed. The feathers came next. Slowly, pushing from the skin, mildly bloodied and wet. They were thick and black for some time, before they began to turn blue in certain areas. The primary limb of the wing was soon blue, with thick, small feathers where gaps lay, looking like bright blue lightening crackling through a navy sea. The longer feathers came next; thick, black, and huge. When they were grown in, the remainder began to grow. Bright tufts of navy near his spine, and long tails of blue feathers trailing ever downward. It stopped, almost abruptly. He was done; he’d grown his new wings, but he remained asleep. Dean was almost nodding off when he awoke, but his waking was not graceful.

 

                       Castiel shot upwards, braced on his arms as he bowed his back and took in a sharp, wheezing gasp of air.

“Cas?” Dean asked, concern evident, and even Sam seemed concerned. Castiel was still for a moment, but his eyes were unfocused. Or rather, they were very focused, on nothing in particular; empty space. But then he spoke, and what he said made no sense to Dean but it seemed of great import. He opened his mouth, body still and eyes focused at nothing and he spoke; spoke of prophetic speech and terror.

“The Great One created the divine; the wingeded beasts that ruled the Heavens, and all was good. But there cannot be light without shadow. The divine turned dark. They mutated and created a great evil. The lands were full of chaos. The Great One created a third, to stop the chaos, but failed. It created a great darkness that threatened to swallow the world. The darkness was sealed away, forgotten in time and wiped from the memory of everything in existence. The memory of that great darkness remains, locked within the minds of the chosen divine. The Great One is dead. The darkness threatens to escape,”

Castiel paused, and neither of them dared to speak, only staring in confusion and fear, until Castiel turned his head, slow but fluidly, and he spoke once more. “We will all perish.”

 

With these words, the dragon collapsed.

 

**ART:**

**Mature wings:**


	14. Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the end of this chapter

Hours passed with nary a response from Castiel, who was placed on his side in Dean’s bed after being gingerly cleansed. Both of them were worried, for different reasons most likely. Dean was worried because Castiel had basically slipped into a coma. Sam was worried because Castiel awoke and predicted the apocalypse, but he admitted he was worried about Castiel’s well being. Dean would probably be worried about the apocalypse too, had Castiel not just woken up and spouted nonsense. Had he not been the man he’d spent a good portion of his life with, now. Had he not been the person full of his brood… Good lord, Dean cared far too much.

 

                       As the sun began to set in the sky, Castiel awoke with a great lack of grace and beauty. Dean was lucky that he had the forethought to bring in a bucket, because moments after jolting awake, he leaned over the bed and vomited. Dean wasn’t sure how Castiel was even still alive, with all the vomiting he seemed to do. Dean stroked his hand down his back, finding him damp with sweat. His skin was burning hot beneath his hand. Dean wondered if he had a fever…He groaned after finishing, putting his hand to his skull, “My head…my head hurts.”

“Take it easy…” Dean said, “You went through some pretty weird shit.”

“My wings…” Castiel said, voice sounding a little strained, “Are they okay?” Dean didn’t know why he asked, because moments after speaking he spread his wings to their full length. It was awkward and cramped, because of the size of them. He shifted them, bending various limbs that seemed to have formed. They were odd; they contained more joints than the previous ones.

“They’re fine.” Dean said finally.

Castiel sighed, folding his wings against his back as tightly as they would go, before he relaxed enough to get out his next statement. “I am very thirsty…”

Before he knew it, Sam was returning with a tankard of water, scaring the dragon slightly as he had no clue he was there. He took it with shaking hands and raised it to his lips, gulping it down like he hadn’t had a drink in years.

 

                       When he had finished, Sam took it back and placed a hand on his wrist, “Cas…you said some things…”

“What?” he asked, turning his attention to the younger man.

Dean, in truth, wasn’t so much worried about what Castiel had said, although it did seem strange. But for all Dean knew, he could be spouting nonsense from a drug-laden psyche. Perhaps even fever induced…

“You said some creepy shit,” Dean said, leaning forward to get his attention. “I put you to sleep, you woke up suddenly, predicted the apocalypse and then passed out.”

“I remember nothing of this…Well, the latter.”

Assuming Castiel could read, Sam handed a piece of paper to the dragon; everything Castiel had said that he’d written down. It was messy and stained with blood, but it was legible. “Do you know anything about this?”

Castiel squinted down at the paper, attempting to read it with the messy writing and blood. “I’m not sure what this means…” he mumbled, putting the paper aside. “There is rumor…Myth, perhaps. A Great One, so I have heard of him. But as I said, he is myth. There is also myth that when a dragon matures something unlocks in it’s brain, and it is given secrets. But I don’t know what this means… I don’t remember saying this.”

“You went into some kind of trance…It was freaky,” Dean said, trying to remind him.

“I’m sorry…I don’t remember.” Castiel, putting his hand to his head. “But my head hurts so badly…”

“Do you know of the darkness that threatened to swallow the world?” Sam asked.

“No, I don’t… I’ve never heard of such a thing. I don’t know why I wouldn’t remember, this. It’s said that very, very old dragons hold secrets of greater things, but they are forbidden from speaking them. It’s said only a chosen few should know the secrets of our race. But they remember…I don’t remember. If it were anything of import, I feel like I would remember. Perhaps it was just delusion…” he sighed. “I don’t feel well, either…” he mumbled.

“You’re very hot. Do you think you have a fever?” Dean asked. “Can dragons get fevers?”

“I don’t know…” Castiel said, although it didn’t seem that he had thought on it very long. He was lying back down within a few moments, eyes shut tightly to the world as he tried to block out the pain.

 

                       It was worrisome that he didn’t remember; if it _was_ something important. Had putting him to sleep been wrong? Would it have been beneficial to their survival had he stayed awake? But that would have hurt, Dean knew that. Losing his skin while being awake, forced to regrow his limbs and able to do nothing… So Castiel slept, for quite some time before awaking again and having far less of a headache, but he was still upset in some way. He was tense, annoyed, still having a bit of a headache, and even though Castiel knew not of what he’d said, perhaps they could milk him for the myth he did know about.

 

                       But unfortunately, Castiel didn’t want much to do with this, and so they set at the table with a flagon of mead in the dragon’s clawed fingers and he began to recount the tales of his youth. Castiel did not drink to get drunk. He had been given the choice of alcohol days prior, and found it calmed him and he liked it, but he did not get drunk. He seemed to have an extremely high tolerance.

“The Great One…” Castiel said, tracing the rim of his tankard with his claw absentmindedly, “Was a Great Dragon, said to have created most of our species. This is myth, of course, as I said. Dragons like animals, and dragons like people. I believe you have a similar belief…God, is it?”

“Yes, God is our…God.” Sam mumbled.

“Either way, it’s said he created the dragons. There are carvings of him…But I believe it’s all story. He created us, though...theoretically. We were regarded as divine. It is said at once we lived in the sky, in a plane separate to this one, but most of us left. There is indeed a city in the sky, composed of magic and hidden from all prying eyes. Some dragons still live there; the greats. The old, old dragons. It is used for ritualistic purposes, as well. But, despite there being very, very old dragons and a sky city that was…theoretically, once created and home to The Great One, no one has ever seen him, nor do they remember him. It is said that he is dead, though.”

“If the city is accessible as if any other city, where is it your kind go when they die?”

“Logically, we return to the Earth as rot…but it is believed we lose our humanity, and our souls ascend to the realm of the dead. A land where we live as our true forms; dragons. Eternal hunting grounds, where hunting is plentiful. After death, it is the ultimate reward. To hunt forever, without worry…it is somehow good? Personally, I wouldn’t want to lose my humanity.”

“Your race sounds complicated…”

“Oh, it is…” Castiel mumbled. “But aside from fable, the Donasdogamatastos are, indeed, real. I don’t believe I explained to you, in full detail, the …details, of these beasts. I said they are feral, and while they are, at the same time they are not. They are feral in the way that they are very savage. They are intelligent, and they are capable of logical thought, but their main desire is to see us killed. They are actually quite beautiful…but every rose has thorns.”

“And there is nothing about the…thing?” Dean asked, gesticulating briefly. “The whole…world eater shit.”

“Well, as I said, the existence of The Great One is myth, and if this…world eater came from him, I doubt it exists… Though I can’t be sure. There are closely guarded secrets about our race that only some of us know the answer to, but are forbidden to speak about it. It’s a crime punishable by death, but no one really knows why…” Castiel stopped circling the rim of the tankard and brought it to his lips, taking an almost elegant swig before setting it back down, “Our society is strange…”

“But fascinating…” Sam replied.

“Everything is fascinating to you. The process of blinking probably fascinates you if it relates to a dragon in some way,” the dragon said as he stood from the table, “I need to lay back down…”

 

                       When Castiel left, Dean turned his attention towards Sam and spoke, “I’m still a bit worried. What if I fucked something up? Christ, I kinda regret putting him to sleep.”

“Maybe his memory will come back to him…”

Dean certainly hoped so, or even that he what Castiel was saying was nothing but a dream. Dean was gonna be pissed if the apocalypse came…

 

Art:

Lil preggo Cas

He's not that far along yet but more or less.

 

Extended wings:

 


	15. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. IF YOU ARE ANGERED BY THIS AND DID NOT BOTHER TO READ THIS NOTE, THIS IS YOUR FAULT, NOT MINE.  
> There is brief, yet graphic Sastiel in this chapter.  
> IT IS NOT A PERMANENT PAIRING  
> In fact you will see it makes Destiel STRONGER.  
> Originally I was going to put this in two chapters; an explicit version and non explicit version, but it really fucked up the flow.  
> So I have included a break.  
> See beginning of story to see where the sex begins and how to skip it because the notes keep fuckin' it up.   
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  
> Although honestly it has a less than and greater than sign around the sex and end sex thing but it keeps erasing that from the notes...  
> Also, art at the end of this chapter.

Warning:

Sex begins at

< \--Sex--- >

Sex ENDS at

<\--End Sex -->

CTRL F the latter to skip it. 

 

The days went on, and their lives had started to adjust for a while, but Castiel was a little testy. Rather, he was self conscious. As the days grew, so did he, and he had grown quite a bit after some time. But being like this made him feel exposed, and ashamed. He did not like to leave the bed, which annoyed Dean for reasons he didn’t quite understand. So Dean went to work with his expert seamstress skilled. He found some very long shirts which he cut the backs out of. He found Castiel did not like the sleeves, because they went against his scales when he moved, so Dean removed them to. So Castiel went around clothed, for the most part. He was out and about now, at least, trying to live life normally. Dean thought it looked a bit like a dress sometimes when he wore certain shirts; it was vaguely amusing but he wouldn’t tell Castiel this.

 

                       In addition to Castiel’s clothing issues, though, a few other strange occurrences began to happen. Perhaps Castiel’s premonitions weren’t too far off. For a few weeks after the incident, Castiel would have strange dreams he didn’t quite understand. He would tell Dean he saw things that didn’t make too much sense to him. It was nothing useful, but all of the dreams seemed to have a common theme; the apocalypse. A darkness shrouded in nothing that cloaked the world in blackness, and it became nothing. It seemed symbolic because the thing that ate the world seemed to be absolutely nothing. It was nothing he could see.

 

                       About a month later, something strange began to happen. It was at this point Dean seriously considered taking Castiel back, but there was no way they could bring one of Castiel’s siblings to the village to help him travel back. It was also more dangerous; Castiel was smaller and thinner then. Now he was larger and moved less gracefully. It probably wasn’t best to have him walk up a mountain whilst heavily pregnant.

 

                       It seemed small at first, the changes that took place along the land. The water began to taste slightly strange, before it began to darken. Though this could be just a problem at its source. On some days it would be clear, on others it would not, but it generally had a strange taste. They were wary to drink the water, but after testing it out they realized it was not deadly, and was probably okay for drinking as it caused no side effects other than simply tasting off. They had little choice in the matter, anyway.

 

                       Then the earthquakes began. Small earthquakes, but noticeable; Dean had never experienced earthquakes in this village. Then the cracks appeared, outside of the village and sometimes inside of it. Deep cracks in the earth appearing from seemingly nowhere, letting off foul smelling vapors every so often. Then there was the shrine…

 

                       Ever since the village had been created, there was always a small shrine-like statue just outside the village, shrouded with bushes and seemingly invisible to those who didn’t know it was there. Inscribed with words that had been worn away and were illegible, as years and years of harsh weather had damaged the stone. But the stone always stood, and it never broke. Despite the fact that it had worn away the inscriptions, and it was a little worse for ware, it was incredibly sturdy. One attempt to remove the stone had failed completely; there was no removing it. So it remained at the base of their village; a shrine of unknown origins or causes. But one day, when Dean was going for a hunt (which he still did, despite the fact that he could easily get sustenance from the market) he noticed something odd. Just out of the corner of his eye he noticed the shrine, and it looked different…

 

                       It was cracked; straight up the middle. A deep crack that ran from base to tip. Dean had no idea what this meant, but it was worrisome. But some days, which is what made Dean want to take Castiel away, something strange happened. A gas rose from the pits and blacked out the sky; the village was covered in a black fog. People stayed in their homes, were afraid to breathe… Dean felt like this was unsafe, and he began to wonder if bringing a dragon to his village had upset some balance he never knew about.

 

                       The fog cleared, and they lived with a worry in the back of their mind, but they couldn’t let that stop them. They attempted to live life, and it seemed to be working. The black fog had stopped; it would return some days, but sparingly. All was well…until the months rolled by and Castiel became an insatiable beast. When the initial illness wore off, he was back to his old self, more or less, and with that came the need for sex. But it seemed to be worse. The need to fuck drove him almost mad. So Dean gave what he could, trying to keep him satisfied enough to not go crazy. It was almost erotic, if not slightly terrifying, to see how Castiel acted _without_ sex. He’d never seen anyone so horny in their life…

 

                       It was problematic because it usually ended up with him in bed, writhing against a blanket or shoving his hand between his legs in attempt to stop the madness, but it never helped. He tried masturbation, as per Dean’s request, and even though he managed to reach climax it wasn’t quite as satisfying as sex, and it left him sated for far less time. Dean generally gave in, because it sucked watching Castiel so miserable.

 

                       Dean left one day, to go on an extensive hunt. They were low on money, and Dean realized it was time to go back to hunting dragons. Castiel was surprisingly okay with this, as long as Dean didn’t kill any of his family. There was a misplaced dragon seen wandering about the area. A prize that was not so rare far East, but here it was rare. The dragon was of Eastern decent; its body long and serpent like, with tufts of fur sprouting from its neck like a mane. It was a decent prize and would pay quite a bit of money if he could take it down. He wasn’t quite sure what an Eastern dragon was doing so far away from home, though.

 

                       Castiel was alright for a day or so, but then it became unbearable. He decided to do the unthinkable… He wandered from the bedroom that he and Dean shared and headed through the house, going into the room that the brothers liked to take apart the parts of everything they hunted. Sam had a quick hunt that morning, leaving him alone briefly before bringing back a small dragon. Castiel wasn’t sure what kind, because at present he had skinned most of it. It laid there, belly split open and skin gone, with its guts spilling out onto the table. He watched as he reached his hand inside the cavern and pulled out a good portion of innards, throwing them into a barrel when they were free. He then wiped his hands on a wet towel nearby.

 

                       When he turned, he jumped slightly to find him behind him.

“Shit, Cas…what are you doing in here?”

Castiel didn’t know exactly what to say here; he knew what he wanted, but not quite sure how to approach the subject, so he did so very directly. Within seconds he had Sam pushed against the table, pinning him there and gripping his hand. Before he had much chance to react, the dragon was leading his hand beneath his shirt, pushing it against his already damp sheath, “I need your help…”

Sam, of course, was not so receptive and quickly drew his hand back.

“Uh…no,” Sam said, trying to back away but of course, he was stuck against the table. “Cas, c’mon. You don’t wanna do this.”

“I’m going mad, Sam…I don’t think I can wait for Dean to get back.” Castiel said, pushing his groin against Sam’s and dragging it upwards, trying to get him into the mood.

“You’re with Dean…He’s not going to be happy.” Sam said, swallowing heavily and still looking for an escape. He didn’t want to push Castiel away and risk injuring him…

“I’m not _with_ Dean. He says he cares about me…He fucks me. He thinks I’m pretty. But he’s not with me. Never once has he said he’s loved me. He’s never claimed me.”

“I don’t think that’s true…”

“It will mean nothing, Sam. Dean doesn’t own me; he’s never attempted to. He’s never attempted to make me his. He won’t find out…” Castiel said, voice low and still rubbing against the other male’s groin. He could feel the younger man beginning to get aroused from the friction.

 

                       Sam seemed conflicted. Castiel was a friend, more or less. He was his brother’s boytoy. He couldn’t fuck that; he shouldn’t fuck that, but Sam was curious. Always the scientist, always the curious one… Sam wanted to know more; he wanted to know everything and Castiel was here, giving it to him. He shouldn’t, but how many times was he going to get to fuck a _dragon_ in his life.

“If you let me go…I will give you what you want.”

< \--Sex--- >

                       Castiel backed away, letting him go long enough so that Sam could reposition him against the table. He slid his hands to the back of Castiel’s thighs, urging him up onto the table. Once on the table, he made sure to push the shirt he wore up above his hips, exposing everything underneath. Though Castiel wasn’t aroused, his cock was still buried in his sheath. Hard, but in need of just a little stimulation to emerge.

 

                       Sam wasn’t wasting any time. He wasn’t into romance or kissing; strictly business. He braced himself on the table with one hand, while his hand drifted down his abdomen, past the curve of his belly until he got to his sheath. His fingers played their briefly, causing Castiel to instinctively spread his legs and bite down on his lip. He dropped down to his knees, coming face to face with his genitals, and he certainly went for it. The younger brother’s tongue darted out to run along his slit, causing the dragon to give out a muffled grunt. He was curious and confused but it still felt nice. It’s not exactly what he wanted, though. That was always Dean’s place; the place he fucked him the most, and somewhere in the back of his mind, even though he was willing to sleep with another, he didn’t think he should give up his cunt to another man.

 

                       Castiel let his hand drift to Sam’s head, making a point to push his head down further until he was at the desired spot, and he was effectively being rimmed. He pushed his hips up, further into Sam’s tongue as it delved at him with moderate knowledge. Sam wasn’t quite as talented down south as Dean; it seemed like Dean was the more sexually experienced, but Castiel would take what he would get. He kept his hand on his scalp, digging his claws into the long, tawny hair. It was only a few more moments before his cock was sliding forth from the sphincter, already leaking.

“Fuck me, please…” he moaned out, bracing his arms heavily on the table as he rolled his hips against his tongue. “Where you’ve got your tongue.”

 

                       Sam drew away from his lower half, standing and dragging his fingers the already damp slit, gathering some of the fluid there as he pushed his fingers forward into his female opening. With the guise of gathering fluid, but honestly he was just curious at what he felt like inside of there. Sam was honestly aroused now, having been between the dragon’s legs had worked him up. With his fingers wet, he tried to be gentle with Castiel as he circled the damp digits around his lowest opening. The dragon’s passage easily began to accept his fingers as he slowly pushed inside, bit by bit, rubbing at the insides with the pads of his fingers. Castiel pushed his hips forward again, constraining a soft moan as Sam’s fingers ghosted around his prostate. It was too much of not enough.

“Christ, you’re so warm in here…”

“I have high blood temperature-fuck!” Castiel hissed, letting out a shaking moan as Sam pushed against his prostate. He dragged his fingers down the protruding gland in a way that almost made him shiver.

 

                       By the time he was almost begging for more, Sam withdrew his fingers and worked to replace something much larger. He could feel Sam pressing against his lowest opening, slowly opening him up and pushing inside bit by bit. Sam barely had done anything before Castiel realized he was much bigger than Dean; but looking at him, he should have known. Castiel let out a breath as Sam began to fully sheath himself; he was being stretched further than he was used to but it was oddly pleasurable. He wrapped his legs around Sam’s hips to steady himself, leaning on his arms. Sam seemed a little conflicted… In truth he was, at the back of his mind was that voice that kept telling him not to do this. But he was already balls deep in Castiel’s ass; no going back now.

 

                       When he moved, Castiel felt as though he was moving into his very colon. It was vaguely painful; he was a little too thick, and a little too long. His legs tensed slightly around the taller man’s waist, letting out a pained grunt as he moved. But the more he moved, the better if felt. He was just getting used to the somewhat gentle movements before he found out just what kind of man Sam was in bed. Ruthless. The moment Castiel’s passage had accepted him, was the moment that Sam realized he didn’t have to hold back anymore. It was rough and passionate, tilted just so that it rubbed right over his prostate and the second he hit him there, Castiel couldn’t breathe. He drew in a strangled gasp, desperate to catch his breath but dear god he could not concentrate on anything. It was too much, but it felt too good to say anything because he couldn’t even get out a sentence.

 

                       Castiel didn’t think he’d ever have sex that he couldn’t handle. Dean had done it to a number of times, but Sam was different. He was stronger; thrust harder and deeper. Rammed into his prostate like a trigger that sent a blinding euphoria straight to his brain. He couldn’t tell the noises he made from the buzzing in his ears, but he let out the most strangled gasps and moans as he tried so desperately to regain control of himself. It wasn’t long before his legs tensed around Sam’s hips hard, dragging himself forward unintentionally as his body trembled and he came hard. He felt half blind in that moment, taking in a sharp gasp as the build up was finally over, and Sam pumped into him a few more times before spilling into his passage.

 

                       It was just beginning to dawn on Sam just how bad this was; how he shouldn’t have done this. And that’s when he heard the door open…

<\--End Sex -->

 

                       It had been a fairly easy hunt; Dean was feeling confident. Dragging a very long, serpent like dragon behind him on a rope. It’s body damaged and blood matting the fur on its hair. It’s pupiless eyes dull and clouded over. It’s red scales even redder and the ornate markings on its body slightly ruined in some places. Dean knew this skin would sell well, so he made sure only to attack places that could be fixed easily. Unfortunately, that was not completely possible.

 

                       He was feeling pretty okay when he dragged the thing into the house, not minding the blood and dirt smearing on the floor; it was common in this line. But it was when he walked into the room where he skinned his dragons that the good mood he was in plummeted. Finding Castiel with his legs wrapped around his brother’s waist in a moment that was obviously post coitus…

“Uh, okay…wow,” Dean said, shoving the dragon inside and shutting the door a little harder than he should have. There was a rage boiling in him that he didn’t quite understand; or rather he wouldn’t admit he understood it. He was just angry. He didn’t have a reason to be angry. Castiel wasn’t his. They weren’t dating. He had no right to be mad, but somehow he was very angry. He thought they had a thing. He thought that this was an unspoken rule; that Castiel shouldn’t go around fucking other people. Especially his brother. Sam should know better…he should’ve known better.

 

                       Dean headed down to the cellar, feeling a surge of anger as he headed past Castiel’s nest. It was an irrational hatred but he almost wanted to destroy it. God, he was so fucking angry at him right now and he didn’t know why. He continued on past it, through a door which held stores of wine and ale. He took one of the many bottles of ale, heading upstairs with it and pouring it into a tankard and drinking deeply. God, fuck them. Fuck the both of them… He hoped they’d be fucking happy together.

 

                       Sam suddenly came rushing into what was similar to a dining room, finding Dean sitting there at the table, fuming silently with the tankard in his hand.

“Dean…” Sam said, heading over to his brother. “Dean, I’m sorry, shit just got so out of hand…”

“No, no, it’s _totally_ fine.” Dean snapped, “Totally cool that you’re fucking Cas. So how was it? Fucking the pussy of a dragon. It’s like fire in there isn’t it?”

“Okay, first of all he wouldn’t let me. Listen to me,” Sam said, sliding into the chair beside him. Dean jerked away, looking very bitterly at him. “He came to _me._ Fucking begging for it because you weren’t here and he said he couldn’t wait for you to get back. I’m…I’m pretty sure that if I wouldn’t have given in, he might have even raped me. It was kind of fucking scary, now that I think about it. I knew it was wrong but he was asking for it, and I mean, when’m I gonna ever get this chance again. He was very convincing…”

“Convincing how? What’d he do, slip you a roofie?”

“If I would’ve known you’d be like this…But he told me you don’t care. That you don’t own him because you never bothered to claim him. That he can do whatever he want because as far as he’s considered, you think he’s pretty and all you do is fuck him; that’s it. I think he probably feels like you’re staying with him because you have to.”

 

                       Dean took a hearty swig of his ale before setting it back on the table with just a little bit too much force. “You could’a said no…”

“So what is the real problem here, Dean?” Sam said, sounding a little irritated. “You mad because your little brother played with your toy, or is there something else there?”

“The fuck are you getting at?”

“Do you love him?”

“I…no, fuck. I don’t do that love thing, Sam.”

“Then why are you so pissed off? He’s not yours, Dean. Why are you so jealous?”

“I don’t know…I really don’t, Sam,” Dean said, voice cracking slightly with just a little more than irritation.

“Dean,” Sam said, insistently, “Do you love him?”

“I...” Dean looked conflicted, eyes darting about nervously. “Yes…I do. I do love him…” he finally admitted. God damn it, he’d loved him for so long and now he finally realized it. He’d realized it before; he just refused to admit it. That he could love a dragon who’d held him captive and captured his heart as well. Because it was abnormal in a way, and though it was not an active thought on Dean’s mind, in subconscious way it had made him refuse to admit just how he really felt.

“Why didn’t he know…?”

“Because you never _told_ him. So you have no right to be angry at him. I think he’s still in the carving room. Go talk to him. He’s actually pretty scared right now…Think he knows he fucked up.”

 

                       Dean nodded, and stood. He said nothing else to Sam. He didn’t apologize, or thank him, or do anything else. He just left him and his ale sitting at the table. He rushed into the carving room, burst through the doors and found Castiel leaning against the table, looking a little worried. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Dean rushed forward. Castiel flinched, drawing back in fear of being hit, but instead Dean gripped his face and kissed him hard. Clearly not the reaction he had been expecting. He pulled away, breathing heavily and looking a little embarrassed as he spoke.

“I love you, stupid…” Dean said, gripping him by the hip and pulling him close. “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” Without giving him a chance to respond, Dean captured his lips again and pushed him almost a little too hard against the table. When Castiel broke the kiss, he was left gasping as he spoke.

“You never said anything…You never claimed me. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Dean reassured. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I didn’t really like it, Dean…he was too much for me. And I didn’t let him fuck me where you fuck me…because that’s yours. Make me yours, Dean, and I will gladly take you as my mate.”

“Yours..? Are you…asking for sex?”

“Not in particular, no. I’m asking you to make me yours. Mark me so that it may be proven that I was yours. Mark me with something that means something to you…Something that makes you, you.”

“I…How do you want me to do that?”

 

                       Castiel wedged his way out of Dean’s grasp, heading over to a collection of knives sitting in the corner. They all looked relatively clean other than the one Sam had use earlier. He took the knife in his hand, holding his fingers beneath the blade before it began to glow red hot. With the knife in hand, he headed back to Dean, before opening the top buttons of his shirt and exposing his chest.

“Do it.”

“What? What the fuck Cas, no!”

“That is how we seal our bond. One of us marks the other. Mark me, Dean, or you are denying me as your mate.”

 

                       Nervously, Dean grabbed the blade from his hand hastily, with it still burning hot at the tip. It made him incredibly uncomfortable, and fairly upset, to press the blade to Castiel’s flesh. Deep, near his sternum as he branded him. He had said something that made Dean, Dean. So Dean carved deeply, burning the flesh as it singed and smoked. When all was done, he pulled away the blade and found that in the center of Castiel’s chest, he had successfully carved his family sigil. Castiel was now part of his family…

 

ART

 

Cas's weird shirt thing

 

Part of Dean and Sam's village

 

 

(copied from Tumblr:

Sam and Dean’s village, more or less. There’s obviously some places that are left out because I couldn’t get that all in one pic.

The first three houses are just that; houses.

The stone looking building with the weird door is the tavern. The walls behind the tavern are guard’s watch towers.

The house beyond that is the guard house. Guards sleep there.)


	16. Apocalypse Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for some art

The weeks rolled on after that fateful incident. Castiel healed well, and everything seemed to be fine for some time. Sam and Dean were iffy around each other, but Sam understood why. He understood he’d made a big mistake, and that it was incredibly stupid to do so. Eventually, the two of them made up. But as Castiel entered the final stretch, things began to go wrong. Castiel became sick. Very, very sick. Dean was incredibly worried but Castiel seemed to be living well enough. He seemed pretty miserable, though. Dean wasn’t quite sure exactly what was going on for a while. He knew that Castiel was suspiciously absent. He seemed testy and moody and wanted Dean to leave him alone, so he did. But Castiel was gone all the time. He was gone during the day, in the middle of the night… Dean didn’t look for him because he knew he wasn’t leaving the house, and because Castiel told him to leave him alone, but Dean was still worried.

 

                       When Dean finally did figure out what was wrong with him, it was the most dramatic and upsetting thing. More for Castiel for the latter, but Dean was pretty unhappy about the whole thing. He had apparently unintentionally trained himself for things that would wake him up, but he wasn’t sure what exactly woke him up. The sound of Castiel crying near the bed, or the smell of bile and sewage, but either way he was awake.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean said groggily, rolling over and peering through the darkness. He could see the outline of Castiel’s massive wings in front of him; he was standing, leaning against the bed slightly and evidently upset. Castiel wasn’t usually one to cry, it seemed. He was hardened; he rarely saw him cry. But he was increasingly moody sometimes due to the pregnancy. Sometimes he just cried about nothing. He watched him cry over a dropped peanut once, but he had already been in a bad mood. So, Castiel could be crying about anything but Dean had a feeling this was possibly cry-worthy.

 

“I..I uh…yeah, I’m fine.” Castiel said, sniffling slightly. “I just…gotta get out of here, I’ll be back, Dean…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Dean mumbled, but by then Castiel was already out the door. Groaning, Dean rolled over and lit the oil lamp on his bed. He pulled on a pair of pants that he had near the bed and made his way towards the door. Eventually he found the source of the foul smell in the room. Apparently he had not only vomited, but also shit on his floor. But it was barely anything. All of it seemed pretty liquid and Dean deduced that this must not have been the first time this had happened.

 

                       It irritated him… Not that he’d fucked up his floor, but he was hiding things from him. He headed elsewhere to grab a few towels and soaked up the excess before heading into the bathroom to get some water from the well. He found Castiel there, sitting precariously on the edge of the tub and pouring water down the back of his thighs.

“Let me help you with that…” Dean said, grabbing a few cloths from a nearby shelf, grabbing the bucket and feeding it back into the well so he could get more water. He dipped it into the well briefly as he made his way with it back to the tub. Castiel tried to protest, but eventually just let Dean do what he wanted.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” Dean asked after he’d finished, dumping the water out as he asked. He drew another bucket from the well to clean himself off as he waited for the dragon’s answer.

“Old habits…” Castiel said, his voice sounding almost slurred as he spoke. He sounded exhausted, truthfully.

“Do you just make habits out of not telling people you’re ill?”

“No…It’s instinct for me not to tell you when I’m weakened. When it’s possible to hide…It makes us weak if we admit we’re ill, or if we are menstruating because it lowers our guard, which is why I hid the latter from you for so long. It’s the same with a lot of animals. If they are ill they won’t show it for some time; it would make them susceptible for attack. And while I’m aware you will not attack me, my head still tells me not to tell you. I’m sorry, Dean…I am ill. I am _very_ ill. I am exhausted… I can’t sleep because I either have to vomit or go to the bathroom almost every time I fall asleep. I haven’t kept anything down in days…I don’t even know if there’s much left in me at all.”

“Christ, Cas…I wish you would have told me this sooner.”

“It’s fine, really. I’ll get better.” Castiel said as he attempted to stand. He was a little unsteady on his feet, suddenly bending over momentarily to grip at both his stomach and the edge of the tub, looking fairly pained. He took in a breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to right himself.

“I am having terrible stomach cramps from all of this…”

 

                       It was this statement that made Dean’s stomach practically drop into his bowel. It twisted with surprise and nerves, sending a sharp prickling cold up his spine and into his skull.

“Cas…you sure those are just cramps?” Dean asked nervously.

“I…Yeah. I think. I’m pretty sure…”

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face, shifting on his feet. “Do me a favor. Please…Let Sam look at you.”

“What is Sam going to do?”

“He has this freakish amount of knowledge on so much. Kid gets off on studying shit that he doesn’t really need to be studying. He has a fair bit of medical knowledge. Helped deliver the neighbor’s kid once. Please…Do it for me.”

“Alright,” Castiel said, sounding a little exasperated.

 

                       Dean wet a washcloth before they headed back into the room, helping Castiel onto the bed and cleaning up what remained of the mess on the floor before balling it up and throwing it out into the hall. He would get it later… It was a common practice in this house to throw shit wherever and get to it when they needed to. When that was done he made his way to Sam’s room. Sam was practically comatose; it took some time to get him awake, and he was fairly unhappy when he awoke.

“The hell, Dean? What?”

“Sam…I need your help. Something’s wrong with Cas and I want you to look him over, okay?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked groggily, squinting at him.

“I don’t know…Vomiting, diarrhea, stomach cramps…he can’t keep anything down. Can’t sleep. I’m worried…”

 

                       Sam rubbed his eyes slightly, sitting up and sighing. He squinted into the darkness; Dean couldn’t tell if he was in thought, or he was just dazed. Eventually he spoke, speech slightly slurred for a moment with sleep.

“How far along is he? I mean…do you know how long his gestation is supposed to be?”

“No…he’s never really said, why?”

Swinging his legs over the bed, Sam prepared to stand before answering. “He could be sick…Or, depending on how long his gestation is, he could be in labor… Sometimes it can make people sick. How long has this been happening?”

“A few days, it seems like…I thought that, maybe. When he mentioned the stomach cramps…He insists he’s fine, though.”

“That means, if he is, he’s been in labor for days…How has he been hiding this?”

“Well, apparently. He’s been a little pissy, but I didn’t know _this_ is what was happening.”

Sam sighed, dragging himself out of bed and stretching before pushing past Dean and heading into his room. Dean was right on his heels, and Castiel was lying on his side, half way covered when they got in there.

                       Sam was on the bed beside him in moments, pushing the blanket down slightly and resting his hand on the underside of the dragon’s abdomen. They sat there in silence for a moment, and Sam feeling nothing but Castiel’s breathing. Nothing seemed to happen for ages until Sam suddenly felt him tense up. He let out a slight whimper, shifting as though he was trying to escape the pain.

“Does that hurt?” Sam asked, pushing down slightly on his stomach. Castiel went to speak, but nodded instead. There was a tenseness in his abdomen, and it only got worse until it finally subsided.

“Roll over.” Sam said, pushing on his side to encourage him to move. With great effort, Castiel managed to roll onto his back. Sam pushed his legs apart without warning, causing the dragon to jolt slightly in surprise.

“You’re not…aroused or anything, are you?”

“Not in the least bit…”

“I’m going to _try_ to put my fingers in you…Is that okay?”

Castiel seemed to debate momentarily before nodding. He jolted again from the contact as Sam slipped his hand between his legs, pushing it past the already partially opened sheath. By the bedside, Dean was staring down at his brother with irritation.

“Don’t even start, Dean…” Sam mumbled, easing his finger in to the second knuckle before he pushed in a second. Castiel looked a little uncomfortable, most likely not enjoying having someone fondling his insides when he wasn’t into it. As Sam pushed his fingers deeper, Castiel suddenly let out a very pained, startled cry.

“Sorry!” Sam said, drawing his fingers back only partially.

“What the hell did you do to him?”

“Went too far…” he mumbled, before dragging his fingers along the upper wall of the dragon’s passage, intentionally gathering the fluid there. He pulled them out slowly, watching as a thick, viscous, mucous like fluid trailed from his fingers and the edge of his sheath.

 

                       He held his fingers up to examine them; it was a mixture between clear, brown, and red. He shook his hand briefly before looking up at Dean.

“Well…he’s excreting some kind of weird mucous, he’s bleeding slightly, his cervix is low and partially dilated, and those aren’t stomach cramps, those are contractions. We should probably get him downstairs…”

Before Dean had chance to respond, Castiel let out a low moan of despair, throwing his arm over his face.

“I…I can’t do this.” Castiel mumbled, sitting up. “I can’t do this right now, Sam…is there anything you can do to stop this?”

“You’re going to be fine, Cas. Dean and I will be right here with you,” Sam tried to reassure, “But in short, no, I can’t. Those babies are ready; you’re ready. You can do this.” Sam said, rubbing his leg slightly.

“No, I mean…I’m fucking tired, and I’m sick. I don’t think I have the energy. There is _nothing_ you can do to stop this until I get better?”

“You may be sick because of the labor… It can bother some people. Even if I did hold it off, which I don’t think I can, you’re still going to be sick.”

 

                       The dragon swallowed slightly, taking in a breath before he hauled himself into a sitting position.

“If I have to…then I have to.”

\---

 

                       Dean thanked the gods that he’d had the forethought to put a bed down there. Or rather, a makeshift mattress padded with as many soft things as he could locate. Birth was not immediate. It was not even close. It was an incredibly slow process. Minutes turned to several hours, with not much headway. It was troublesome because they couldn’t quite take him back upstairs, so any business he had to do had to be done in a bucket and he was not happy about having to do that in front of the two of them. He was fairly compliant for some time, though, despite what Castiel had insisted about labor being painful. He was obviously in pain, but not to the point of unbearable agony. He managed to get an hour or two of rest during this time, most likely due to exhaustion. They attempted to keep him hydrated and fed, but anything that went in there usually came back up or went straight through him.

 

                       Then, suddenly, everything seemed to go to hell. Castiel went through a sudden period of immense pain before a rush of fluids spilled out between his legs. Then he was done with the quiet whimpers and groans. From what Dean understood, it was agony. The minute his water broke he was taken over by intense pain, taking in a sharp, choked gasp, and he cried out with what didn’t get stuck in his lungs. It wasn’t long before there was no way to distract him from the pain. Both Dean and Sam tried everything. He had Castiel leaning against him; he tried stroking his hair, his arm; God, anything he could find, but it didn’t work.

 

                       Castiel could barely breathe, and Dean was getting worried. He had started bleeding profusely, and from what he could actually get out of him it was apparently normal. When the pain became so bad that he started crying, and then sobbing, Dean almost wanted to leave. This was so painful to watch. By the time he was actually ready to give birth, Dean felt relieved, but he should have known that nothing could be easy. Even if there had not been complications, he was still nowhere near done. But there was.

 

                       Sam had been standing by, sitting between his legs but not exactly watching intently. Sam didn’t actually need to be there, but he might be able to help Castiel ease the eggs out. Castiel didn’t want the egg to tilt downwards; Dean didn’t understand why…yet.

“Sam…” Castiel said breathlessly, “Sam!”

“What? What is it?” he asked, barely a break between his words.

“I need to push…help me.” Castiel said, his voice broken and cracked. He was, for the moment, not crying actively but it seemed because he just couldn’t anymore. So he tried… He pushed for quite some time but finally seemed to deflate against Dean, letting out a broken sob. “I can’t…”

“You gotta do this, baby.” Dean said, gripping at his hand, “You’re so strong, you can-,”

“No! I mean I can’t-it’s …it’s stuck.”

 

                       In response, Sam placed his hands on either side of Castiel’s thighs, peering down, but the lighting was sort of dim. It was well enough, but in the crevice of his sheath, it was dark. He could still see something that wasn’t supposed to be there, though.

“You got it a good way out, Cas…c’mon, just keep pushing!”

He did, as soon as he felt the need again, but again failed. He let out a shaking wail, gasping for breath as he leaned back against Dean. “It won’t move!”

“He’s right…it won’t move, “Sam said. “I’m going to try something…” He became invasive again, trying to push his fingers between the obstruction and Castiel’s actual body. It barely fit, but he just managed to get enough around it that he could pull if Castiel pushed. “Now push…”

When he pushed, Sam pulled, but it wasn’t nearly as easy as he thought it would be. The minute he tried pulling his fingers back, it hurt _Sam_.

“Fuck!” the younger brother cursed, hissing as he kept trying to pull at the egg. There was something sharp hooking into his fingers the more he pulled at it, but he couldn’t stop. It was helping; the egg was moving, but slowly.

“Is he okay?” Dean asked, worriedly as Sam cursed.

“He’s fine. This thing is kind of painful to grab ahold of, though,” Sam said, voice strained with pain.

 

                       Unfortunately, the egg got stuck again as it moved further, and gentle pulling wasn’t working quite as well. Sam would have to pull harder… The harder pulling did help to dislodge what seemed like the larger part of the egg, but it pushed the points deeper into his finger. Sam could see what looked like sharp scales towards the front of the egg, moving upwards along it and becoming larger, and less painful looking. The scales near the bottom though were smaller, and sharper. They faced towards Castiel, meaning it was just Sam feeling this because he was pulling it back. They were able to slide smoothly through his body, rather than catching the skin. He had to keep pushing his fingers forward again as the egg emerged, because he found it easier to pull with the aid of Castiel’s inner muscles.

 

                       Though it seemed to be going well for the moment, it was also slow, and it took fifteen minutes until Sam thought he could get the whole thing out soon.

“I need one more good push; can you do that for me?” Sam asked, trying to sound sympathetic and soothing.

“It is _not_ just one more! This isn’t like regular offspring, I can’t just birth this and be done!” Castiel spat, letting out a strained groan as he bore down again. With that final push, Sam was able to yank the thing free. With it now in the light, he realized just how messy this whole process was.

 

                       It was covered in blood and a thick, clear fluid that now bridged towards Castiel’s sheath like some thin sort of mollusk slime. Though beneath all that bodily gunk, the eggs were quite pretty. Sharp, black-lined scales lining the entire thing, the centers of which were a shimmering purple and white; almost like a pearl. Some of the scales almost looked gem encrusted; golden oblong shapes with opal centers embedded into the scale. The whole thing was sort of oblong, with a large bottom, extending slightly into a larger shape as it tapered off towards the top. But despite the fact that the top seemed to be the top, the egg came out bottom first. He supposed that if it had come out the other way, it may have hurt worse. It wasn’t all that large; about the size of a large infant’s head, but apparently it was big enough to get stuck.

 

“You want to see your…kid?” Sam asked, still cradling the egg in his hand. Before Dean had a chance to answer, Castiel shouted a pained, “No!” After letting out a pained groan, he swallowed heavily and took in a breath, “Don’t handle them. Put them in the nest. You can look at them _in the nest_. Too much movement after birth can kill them. Despite being in an egg, birth is still very traumatic. They can die of stress. They are very fragile.” With that, Sam quickly, but gingerly, set them in the nearby nest.

“Sam, Christ, what the hell happened?”

“What?”

“Your hand!”

Sam looked down in his hand in confusion, and then saw what Dean spoke of. Although already covered in blood and slime, Sam could see deep puncture marks on his fingers from which blood pooled at the surface, pumped out by his heart , lightly spurting from his veins as it ran down his fingers.

“Oh fuck…The egg. I stabbed myself on the egg. I didn’t know it was that bad.” He wasted no time grabbing a nearby towel, holding it to his hands in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But would that even matter? Who knows how many eggs he might have to get out? There was a likely chance that it would tear his fingers open multiple times. He may even end up with scars.

 

                       The bleeding stopped soon enough, and the time went on. Castiel birthed another ten eggs, and it was clear he was incredibly tired. His chest heaving with effort, breath barely caught before it was pushed out in a moan of pain. It went fairly smoothly, it seemed; he was able to get them out, but it took some time. It was the twelfth that gave him the most trouble. He felt it, far before it came to his opening; sharp and painful, like it was tearing him apart from the inside. He screamed with such pain that it barely escaped the tightness in his throat. He cursed to their human God and scraped his claws so hard against the stone beneath him that he cracked one of them, sending the edge of it onto the floor.

“Something’s wrong…” Castiel breathed, “Oh God, it hurts...!”

 

                       This worried Dean; this pain already seemed worse. What the hell was going on in there?

“Sam, do something!”

“What am I supposed to do?!” Sam asked, pulling his legs apart slightly to look between them. The only thing he saw was blood, but more blood than he’d seen yet. Castiel seemed injured internally. The dragon shook with pain, barely able to breathe and neither of them knew what to do. By the time the egg actually became somewhat visible, Sam ran his finger along what he could find, trying to find any abnormalities, and it was then he found the problem; it was backwards. It was coming out the wrong way; it was tearing him apart inside.

He gently swiped his hand across Castiel’s thigh in a soothing motion, trying to calm him. “It’s okay, Cas…You’re okay. You just gotta keep pushing again, and it’ll be over. The pain will stop, I promise. This looks like the last one. It’s…it’s backwards.”

                       Castiel let out a defeated sob, chest heaving with the effort to breathe.

“I can’t do this…” he cried, “It hurts too much. I’m so tired…”

“Cas…” Dean said softly, trying to sound as soothing as he could. “You _have_ to do this. Everything I’ve done; we’ve done. It will be for nothing. I can’t lose you. Not after everything we’ve been through. Please. Do it for me,” he said, reaching down and gripping at his hand.

“I would have this thing broken would it not hurt me worse…” Castiel said breathlessly. In a sudden surge of energy, he pushed himself sharply against Dean’s chest so that he was mostly sitting. Before anyone could respond, the dragon pushed his hands between his legs, gripping at the slight protrusion and going back to his task of birthing. He pulled and pushed at the same time, practically shrieking with agony, but no one said anything. Castiel probably knew what he was doing. It probably hurt less for him to do it himself than to have someone else do it for him. He wounded himself without care, just desperate for it to be over.

 

                       He pulled and tore the flesh from his insides, his body shaking with effort and pain. Dean could hear the tissue tearing and ripping, the blood squelching and spurting from his veins as it wet his fingers. He took in a breath, holding it in as he pushed again and finally let it out in a shaking, pained breath, as the egg lay free in his hands. He was still shaking, chest heaving and hands barely strong enough to hold the new born thing in his hands.

“Sam…” he wheezed, “Please…”

Sam took the egg in his hand, gently but quickly, placing it in the nest with the others. Castiel, at this point, looked completely wiped, but calm. It seemed it was finally over. Dean wrapped his arms around the dragon, kissing the side of his neck gently with affection. “You did good, baby. You’re done now. You can rest.”

“Almost…” he mumbled, fatigue heavy on his brain. He stiffened slightly, body straining again and Dean could tell he was trying to push, but he didn’t seem to be in active labor anymore. There was a very slick, squelching noise and in front of him, Sam looked very alarmed.

“Are you…okay?” Sam asked, not quite sure what to ask. Castiel only nodded, and Dean wasn’t quite sure what was going on. He leaned forward, and found a fairly alarming sight. Blood; but not just blood…what looked like innards. Various thick, almost black tissues and solid matter staining the bed in a thick, growing puddle of blood and mucous-like slime. He kept pushing until it stopped flowing, and left a disgusting mass of blood and tissue in the center of the bed, which would promptly be thrown out after this, as it had already been past ruined before that.

“I need to sleep…” Castiel mumbled, letting out a huff of breath.

“Let’s get a bath first, okay?” Dean almost pleaded. Castiel only swallowed and nodded weakly. Getting him up was hard, getting him up the stairs was harder. Getting him to the bathroom was like trying to move a dead body, because he wasn’t quite helping. He was so tired and so weak, barely limping along towards the tub. As Dean laid him precariously along the edge of the tub, leaned against Sam’s chest so that he didn’t fall backwards. As Dean began filling his bath, he soon realized that the eggs might just need some kind of looking after, and Castiel had just left them.

“Do you need to keep those eggs warm?” Dean asked, taking a cloth and dipping it in the now half-way full tub and running it along his blood-streaked thighs. Castiel shook his head, “They do not. They retain the heat from my body until hatched, at which point they regulate their own temperature,” he mumbled, practically slurring.

 

                       Nodding, he made quick work to clean him, but moving to his sheath, he cringed slightly at the wounds inside. He was completely torn up, and he had to get Sam to get something so that he could clean and disinfect the wounds the best he could. With slight protest from the dragon, he made sure his wounds were clean before they moved off to bed. Dean realized he, too, was tired. It had been an eventful several hours, but now he realized the both of them needed sleep. Castiel had barely touched the bed before he was practically comatose. Still, even with Castiel safe and sleeping, and the eggs now in their nests, warm and secure, Dean couldn’t shake a strange feeling of fear and dread in the pit of his stomach. Dean figured that it was just new dad jitters, but something felt off.

 

                       He couldn’t begin to imagine what was going to come next for them. Dean had thought the end of this pregnancy would be smooth sailing from then on out, but he was wrong, and it in no way related to his children. There was to be a big change in his future.

 

**ART:**

 

**EGGS:**

**MISC PREG ART WITH WEIRD LOOKING DEAN SORRY:**

**SIGIL SCAR**

 

 


	17. Stay or Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY NSFW ART AT THE BOTTOM

The new dad jitters passed within a few days, as he spent time with his unhatched children and watching over as Castiel slept for what seemed like days, not moving much but eating and drinking healthily when he was awake. When Dean found Castiel missing from his bed, he found him merely sitting downstairs next to his nest; sometimes he slept there, on the floor.

 

                       When Castiel finally began to recover, he became restless. He had not transformed, or stretched his wings in some time. It was fear that kept him there, but now he realized he could leave, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Where will you go?” Dean asked, one day as they laid idly in bed, one hand stroking the feathers of his wings, as the dragon leaned his head into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I don’t know…”Castiel mumbled. “I don’t want to leave, exactly. This was not well planned… I had not thought I would birth so many children; getting their eggs up the mountain without damaging them may be problematic, but I do not see how I can move them once they hatch, without drawing attention.” Castiel sighed, pulling himself closer to Dean and absorbing his warmth, throwing his leg over Dean’s thigh. “I enjoy your home, but I have left my own. Many of my earthly possessions remain there… It has been my home since infancy. I understand moving here was my best choice; I would have most likely died had I stayed there. But I sometimes feel like a caged bird, here. I can leave, if I want, but it would be a very bad idea…”

 

                       Dean gripped at the dragon’s chin, pulling his head up to place a kiss on his lips, before pulling away and speaking.

“I will find a way to make this work, Cas…I promise I will try to make you happy as possible. I would sack my own village, for you, if it meant you could fly again…” He kissed him again, deeply as his hand traveled to his hair. “I miss you…I miss kissing you like this.” Dean breathed out, taking him back into that kiss. “Let me have you…”

“I am very sore, Dean…” Castiel mumbled, but he couldn’t help but breath out a moan as Dean grinded his hips against Castiel’s sheath. “We can have no vaginal intercourse… I don’t even want to be touched, there.”

“I’ve got an idea…” Dean said, sitting up. “C’mon, baby. We haven’t fucked in too long.”

“Just don’t hurt me…”

“I won’t, I promise,” he said, untying the ties on his pants and pushing them off before doing the same with his top. He was already half hard, but with what he had in mind, it wouldn’t take him long to reach full sail. He laid against the back of the bed, slightly propped by the pillows and the headboard as he commanded Castiel to get on his hands and knees, ass facing Dean with Castiel’s mouth near his cock. Castiel had never given him oral before, but he just needed to get wet.

“You know what I do to your dick all the time with my mouth? I want you to do that to me.” Dean said, as Castiel looked back at him with irritation.

“I understand the concept of oral, Dean.” Castiel mumbled, before lowering his head as he gripped at his cock with the hand he wasn’t using to support himself. He ran his tongue up the shaft the best he could, making sure to let saliva drip down onto it.

 

                       Behind him, Dean laid gentle kisses upon the back of his thighs, up to the end of his sheath where he ran his tongue along the ridge there. He felt the dragon shudder above him, letting out a soft moan against his cock when Dean’s tongue dragged along his lowest entrance. Fingers gripping the flesh on either side, holding him open so that he could run his tongue along it more easily. Breathing labored against his skin as Castiel’s mouth worked at his hardening cock. His mouth, like the rest of him, was very hot. Dean could not constrain the moan that pushed from his lungs as the dragon sunk his mouth down upon his now mostly hard cock. The points of his teeth scraped feather light over his skin, and it was just enough to send prickles of painful pleasure up his spine.

“Real wet, baby. Get it real wet…” he practically groaned, pushing his tongue against his entrance as he managed to slip it into the tight cavern. When he had loosened him up enough he managed to slip his finger inside, and then a second. The dragon was pleased and eager, pushing his hips back against Dean’s fingers with gusto. He suddenly pulled off his cock, mumbling a desperate, “Dean, please,” in his direction.

 

                       Dean scissored his fingers briefly and removed them, and needed to say nothing to the dragon for him to take the hint. He pulled away, turning to face Dean. He gripped hold of the engorged member as he lowered himself onto it, slowly stretching himself open on him. Once he sheathed Dean, he sat there for a moment, trying to adjust to the girth of his cock. He was practically trembling with anticipation, breathing slightly more audible than usual as he waited. His movements were slow at first, but even with such miniscule shifts in position, he couldn’t help but let out a pleasured breath as Dean’s cock dragged along his insides.

 

                       Castiel was still hot as ever; like sticking his dick in an oven, with far less burning. Dean watched as he rode him, eyes drifting shut and head tilting back ever so slightly as he let out those panting, pleasured breaths. He seemed too far away, though. Dean reached forward, grabbing hold of his closest horn and pulling him down. Castiel ceased movement so that Dean would not slip out, but once their position was more defined, Dean began thrusting against the dragon. Sliding his cock into the slick heat like it was made for him. He leaned up, fastening his lips to the other male’s with little grace. Teeth scraping along his lips and tearing the chapped flesh slightly; tasting the slight tang of blood in his mouth as he swiped it along Castiel’s lower lip. He did not seem fazed at all. When Castiel was in place, bracing himself on the bed and Dean’s shoulder, Dean let his hands drift towards the dragons hips. Pushing him back onto his cock as he thrust into him.

 

                       He drew away from the kiss, to the point where they merely shared each other’s breathing and pleasured cries. The dragon soon grew frustrated with this position, though, throwing himself back so that he was sitting up again. Hands pressed against Dean’s chest as he pushed himself down onto his member, over and over again, forcing out whimpering whines from his vocal chords. Dean’s hands seemed to gravitate towards his hips, forcing them against him as they rolled against him in the most pleasurable of ways. They grew more desperate and erratic, his movements stuttered and thighs shaking as he pushed himself down. He knew Castiel was close, and he could help him along, but that’s not what he wanted.

“Let me see you come untouched.” Dean said, voice strained as he thrust deeper and harder. “C’mon…” he moaned, hips stuttering slightly as he bucked up. He wanted to come last; didn’t want to miss what he did to Castiel, but he knew he was close, too.

 

                       Castiel let out a choked moan, body trembling as Dean watched the milky fluids run from his cock, dripping almost like thick water down his twitching cock and onto Dean’s stomach. He rode out his orgasm by riding Dean’s dick, head tilted downwards and eyes shut as he cried out with breathless moans. It was just enough to push Dean over the edge, but he continued to watch the dragon as he filled him with his seed, now useless in it’s location.

“So pretty, baby…” he breathed, pumping up a few more times as he spurted the fluids into his passage. “Love watching you come.”

 

                       Dean watched as Castiel smiled sleepily, climbing off of him and settling shakily into the bed. He managed to cuddle against Dean’s side, spikes and horns pushing in his skull just enough so that they weren’t stabbing Dean fatally.

“If you decide to leave, I will definitely miss that.” Dean said.

“If I leave, would you not come with me?”

“…I don’t know, Cas. It’d mean leaving my home behind, too. I think I could stay, but I’d have to leave you to visit home sometimes…”

 

                       Suddenly, Sam burst through the door, looking winded and frightened. In his startled state, Dean didn’t quite notice this, and shouted a quip.

“It’s called a door, Sam! Something you knock on when it’s closed?!”

“Shut up,” Sam said, leaning against the door frame, breathing heavily as Dean covered himself. “Something’s wrong, Dean. Really wrong. You gotta come see this.”

 

**ART**

**Pretty much all of this is NSFW shit I did a while back. It's just all dirty. I am sorry. P.S Cas has his wings in here because render problems. I almost don't even want to post these here because they're just pure porn I AM SORRY BUT I WILL POST ALL MY TTD ART NO MATTER WHAT IT IS  
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	18. The End Cometh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at end of chap

The first clue to something being wrong was that Sam told Dean to dress in his hunting gear, as he did himself. What could have possibly happened so quickly? When Dean left, the town seemed panicked. Talking amongst themselves in confusion and fear, pointing about at things Dean couldn’t understand.

“What happened?” Dean asked, as Sam began to lead them out of town.

“People are going missing…” Sam mumbled, trying to keep quiet around them. They were headed towards the shrine, Dean noticed, knowing it was worse for wear but he couldn’t have prepared for what he saw. The shrine was no longer cracked; it was shattered, and he saw from what still stood, black slime dripping from its innards.

“What the hell is that…?” Dean said, kneeling down beside the shrine. It was stinking, singing the ground as it touched the dirt.

“I have no idea…” Sam said, bidding him to follow as he continued. “But it’s not the only strange thing.”

 

                       As they headed on, Dean began to notice a strange pattern. The more they walked, the less things seemed hospitable. The grass was dying, trees and plants drooping as the life seemed to run from them, as the black veins that ran across the dead grass in more frequency the further they went.

“I noticed something wrong with the water, today…” Sam said, pushing past the dying thicket of brambles that stood in their path, thorns gripping at their clothes like hands of death, begging to have the life returned to them. “So, I went to look at the source. See what was wrong…”

As they continued on, walking through a forest now that was mostly dead, a stench began to drift through the branches that could not be described. A mixture of death, the smell of something burning, and things he failed to even fathom.

“God, what the hell is that smell?”

“You’ll see…” Sam said, as they finally came to the clearing, where their water generally seemed to come from.

 

                       The stench was almost unbearable, and everything was dead. Trees, grass, plants; dead. There were black veins running across every piece of dead shrubbery, and the water which usually ran clear, albeit sometimes a bit murky, was black. Dean wasn’t even sure if this was water, anymore. It barely flowed; looked more viscous than it should, like ebony colored mucous. Dean stepped up to the water, looking into it. It bubbled in some places, looking almost like boiling tar. The smell seemed to be coming from the water, or whatever it was.

“So why are we here…?” Dean asked, looking around.

“Well, I was hoping you could help me figure out what this is.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he could form no words before shrugging and with a sigh saying, “I got nothin’, Sam…”

“This is bad, Dean. Something is happening. What if this is the apocalypse Cas warned us about?”

“But he talked about the world being eaten. Nothing is being eaten…”

“But it’s _dying_ , Dean…People are going missing. What if this is just the beginning?”

“But why is it happening? What did we do wrong? Why now?!”

“Who says you did this? What could you have possibly done to cause this?”

 

                       Dean was about to respond when a sick squelching noise caught his attention. He turned his attention off into where the forest started again. The veins upon the ground were spreading rapidly; thickening, coming together and then turning into liquid. From the puddles forming from the Earth came slick black claws, white clawed fingers coming for soon after. They could only watch in confusion as it rose further. A white dragon, thin and almost zombie like raising from the growing puddle. A black slime dripped from its mouth, nose and eyes; hung from its body as it rose from the puddle. Large slash wounds littered it’s body; it’s inside green and rotten, rather than fresh and red. The blood was black; dripping out like a disgusting ooze from a body that seemed long dead. It was thin, bones poking out of its thin white skin, which was littered with the same black veins that spread along the ground, albeit smaller. A massive fin lay upon it’s back, spikes holding together the bridging of transparent, sickly membrane. Massive teeth jutted from its jaws, surrounding its thick, forked tongue. The spines on it’s forearms scraped against the dirt as it rose. This thing looked sick; it looked dead, but yet it moved.

“What _is_ that?” Sam asked, clearly bewildered.

“I don’t know, but we have to take it down.” Dean said, drawing his blade as Sam drew his. It breathed a shrieking hiss at them as its massive body lumbered slowly towards them. It’s bones creaked, snapping and popping as it walked and it’s limbs seemed to move in almost a broken manner. It was just slow enough that the two of them lunged their swords quickly straight into its heart. That should have killed it; should’ve killed anything, but it acted as though nothing happened. The thick black that ran down their swords and touched their skin singed slightly like something corrosive; but it would never be able to eat through their skin; merely leave mild irritation in its wake.

 

                       The minute the pair drew their blades from it’s chest, the creature lurched and spewed black vomit, hitting Dean’s arm. This did burn; it began to eat through his bracer like water to paper. He quickly unbuckled it from his arm and threw it upon the ground, watching as it nearly dissolved on the spot. It had already eaten through, and a hole was burning away in his shirt. Dean used his blade to cut that part free, and beneath it was a possibly second-degree burn on his arm, but the burning had stopped.

“We hit it in the heart, why isn’t it dead?!” Sam shouted, obviously confused.

“Maybe we hit the wrong part. But you know what? If it’s got no head, the heart ain’t gonna matter...” Dean said, backing up slightly, motioning for Sam to move to the side.

“Hey, ugly! Lookin’ for a snack?! Got one right here, for you! Come and get it!” Dean shouted, holding his arms open as the beast lumbered forward, slightly faster than before. The black vomit spewed from its mouth again, but this time Dean avoided it. It splattered onto the ground, which began to corrode instantly. It stirred up an acrid smelling smoke from a combination of burning foliage and whatever was in that bile fluid.

As the dragon headed forward, Sam snuck around, falling behind on purpose so he could follow it stealthily as Dean distracted it. Sam manage to climb upon its back, and as it thrashed it’s head towards him in surprise, he sunk the blade into its palate. It screamed and bled its black blood, thrashing in pain, and Dean was finding this all disturbingly familiar.

 

                       He wasted no time, though, rushing forward and plunging his sword into its neck, slicing and slicing until he had cut a good portion of the side open. The beast fell at this point, bleeding, gasping, and gurgling. Dean brought his sword down on its neck, hacking away until its head came off completely. Spine separated, body twitching with confused nerves. He took in a deep breath, panting now from the exertion. His brother joined him, looking down at the dead beast.

“We should get out of here…” Sam said, breathing still heavy. “Maybe Cas’ll know something about this. At least we seemed to have killed the only one.”

“Yeah…” Dean breathed, “Let’s get out of here…”

 

                       The both of them turned to leave, heading a short distance away before they heard the noise of flesh tearing. Though when they turned around, it wasn’t tearing…It was rejoining. Thick tendrils of veins crept from the body to the head, connecting to it before pulling the head back to the neck. There was the sound of hollow popping somewhere within it’s still split skin, and before long that skin was closed again. The dragon began to stand.

“Run…” Sam said, before taking off. Dean followed in pursuit, but not without argument.

“Sam, that thing’s way too close to the village! We have to stop it?”

“With what, Dean?! We stabbed it in the heart, we _cut off its head_ , and it’s still walking around! What are we supposed to kill it with?!”

“Then we gotta get out of there. We gotta warn them; somehow, we’ve gotta get Cas and the babies out…”

“You know he can’t leave the house, though!”

“Shit, I know! Damn it, I’ll think of something…”

 

                       When they got back to the village, barely having stopped running at all, there was a crowd of people gathering around the front of their home, scared and amazed murmurs from the crowd.

“What happened here?” Dean said, panting and trying to keep his cool.

“Some kind of angel…It just descended from the Heavens and walked into the house. Told us to leave it be,” one of them said.

“Angel…?” Dean mumbled.

“She was real pretty,”

“Ain’t no she, that was a man,”

“Move!” Dean said, pushing past them and into his home, with Sam following. There they found not one, but two dragons. Castiel, and the one they had met some time prior; Estalia.

“I warned you…” they said, looking sternly at him as they entered. “You have brought the end upon us, and now it is you who will fix it.”

 

 

**ART**

 

**THE DRAGON**

 


	19. Oadriax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the end of the chapter

“What are they talking about, Cas?” Dean asked, stepping forward defensively. Dean was already pumped up on adrenaline and irritation, ready to snap on Estalia if he tried to control him. “I just got attacked by some undead freak, so this better be important.”

“The creature that attacked you is precisely why I am here, _Dean_.” Estalia said, ending with irritated emphasis. “Please, leave us.” Estalia said, gesturing towards Sam, who chose not to argue and headed off elsewhere.

“Estalia says what’s happening is _our_ fault.” Castiel said, sounding somewhat nervous.

“How is it our fault?!” Dean shouted.

“I am forbidden from speaking about it….” Estalia mumbled. “I would be killed if I were to tell you. Only few of us are able to speak of such a thing.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Dean asked impatiently.

“Come with me; both of you, to Oadriax.”

“Oadriax…?”

“The city in the sky I spoke to you of…” Castiel said in a hushed tone.

“There, one of the worthy will speak to you, and we will fix this mess the both of you have created…”

“Give me a minute…Please,” Castiel practically pleaded; Dean could hear fear in his voice, but he couldn’t place why. Something seemed sketchy about this…

 

                       Dean waited with Estalia after Castiel wandered off, but after a few moments Dean decided to go after him. In his haste and nervousness he ended up rudely opening the toilet door and scaring the shit out of him; possibly literally, Dean didn’t know. He did watch him half curl up onto himself and flex his wings in fear so that they smacked loudly into the cramped walls around him.

“Can I pee in peace?!” he shouted. Okay, so, the literal part had been wrong at least.

“You really just ran out of there to pee?”

“I don’t like doing it midflight. It’s weird, it’s uncivilized, it’s messy and gross, and there’s a good possibility someone’s going to have a really bad day.”

“You look nervous…”

Castiel glared up at him, shoving his hand between his legs to clean himself off before pushing himself off the wooden planking, effectively shoving Dean out just by standing.

“I am nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” Dean asked, moving enough to let Castiel out of the cramped space.

“It’s not good up there, Dean it’s…I don’t know. It scares me. Only the chosen live there, but usually they are very old. If we have been chosen to go there, it’s nothing good. It means they want something with us; something that probably will involve something painful and ritualistic. If we’ve done something, though…we have to fix it. If we don’t go, they may even come after me. They may kill me, Dean…”

“But they’re your own kind! Why would they kill you? What happened to your code?”

“Most elder dragons are above the code…But even so, if we have done something particularly catastrophic, they may even have the right to kill me.”

“What could we have done, Cas?! I don’t understand.”

“Unless there is some law about the union between dragon and human that I don’t know about, that somehow brought on apocalyptic conditions, I don’t know. But that doesn’t make sense. It’s happened before, and there has been no strife such as this. Why now? What did we do different…?” Castiel pondered to himself.

“I don’t have near as much understanding on your species, so I can’t answer that question…”

“We should go…It’s best not to keep them waiting.”

 

                       Before the both of them headed out, they requested that Sam keep a close eye on the eggs, for the sake of doing so, and to keep them safe. Neither of them wanted to leave them, but it was mandatory. Dean went first, trying to disperse the crowd in front of his house but found they didn’t really want to move. Dean decided it was as good a time as ever to tell them what had been going on. It was the end of the world and Dean didn’t think he could get Castiel out of there without exposing their secret. Amongst the clamor of people trying to ask him meaningless questions, he finally decided the only way to get through to them was to yell…

“Alright, listen up!” Dean shouted, holding his arms out to try to get their attention.

“I’m going to need you to all _get away_ from my _house_! No, there is not an angel here. So all of you are going to need to back up if I’m going to explain any of this…”

 

                       After a moment, with murmurs of confusion in the air, the crowd backed away. Dean opened the door, motioning for Castiel to come outside. When he did, the crowd was buzzing with confused gasps and conversation.

“This is my lover, and if you try to harm one hair on his head I will not hesitate to burn this entire village to the ground!”

“What _are_ you?” one of the men asked, peering at him curiously.

“I am known as a Gassagen…” Castiel said nervously, leaning against Dean.

“A what?”

“A dragon,” Dean informed.

“You’ve been keeping a dragon amongst us?!” one of the villagers asked, angered.

“He’s a person!” Dean shouted, trying to calm the growing angry mob in their midst. “He’s not like the dragons we hunt! He is divine; he is no different, mentally, from a human. And let it be known, because aside from me burning this village, any attempt at his life would mean you are practically killing your own kind for sport and money! Back up…”

 

                       Castiel moved forward, into a clear spot before he transformed and Dean climbed onto his back. He realized this had never happened before; he had never ridden Castiel. He had no idea how to do this… Castiel even seemed a little alarmed as Dean climbed onto him, shifting slightly to try to get Dean into a position that was more comfortable to him. Estalia emerged next, transforming and taking off into the air.

“Do not let me fall, Cas…” Dean mumbled, to which Castiel didn’t respond but instead spread his wings, causing a few people to scatter. Dean gripped onto what he could; gripping the skin and feathers at the base of his wings, before the dragon shot off into the air. Dean clenched his thighs around his torso, fingers deep in his feathers now as he flew. Castiel was fast; way too fast.

 

                       They rose a considerable way until they were flying after Estalia, at the moment not ascending anymore. When Estalia made a sudden dive, almost, into the clouds above, so did Castiel. They shot through the clouds and Dean felt the moisture along his body, but even then they continued to rise, through more and more scattered clouds. They were going impossibly fast, and Dean was struggling to hold on. Just when he thought he was slipping, Castiel straightened up and it became smooth again. At this point, Dean’s eyes were closed shut, in the fear that he may fall any moment. When they straightened out, Dean finally opened his eyes and could hardly believe what he saw. What lay before his eyes defied logic and everything he’d ever known. A city in the clouds; composed of stone and marble. Floating islands of green grass housing buildings and bridges that connected to other islands. Beneath and between their bridges was a fog similar to that he had seen on the mountain. He briefly wondered if there was a connection between this.

 

                       The sky around him was, at the moment, grey, but there were filled with the glimmering flecks of what seemed like pure energy. Dean extend his arm just enough to touch them, and felt his fingers pass through them like they were nothing. Castiel landed upon the nearest island and Dean found himself rolling off, falling to the ground with a hard thump as he felt like he could no longer walk. His limbs were shaking when he tried to stand, testing the ground beneath him as though he thought it may not be real. When he looked up again, Castiel was standing beside him with Estalia, looking far more human.

“Come…” Estalia said commandingly, leading the two off into the city. Dean didn’t see many people; dragons, rather, but the ones he did see were strange. None of them possessed wings.

“Why does no one here have wings?” Dean asked in a hushed tone.

“They are very old. Eventually they lose their corporeal wings, and they become completely astral. A wavelength not present on this plane, but still available for use.”

 

                       They walked for quite some time, along bridges and through grasses. Their legs misted by the fog drifting over some parts of the ground. Dean could see other architectural figures in the distance, but they seemed not to be heading there. They seemed to be heading towards a massive castle, made of gold, marble, and onyx. Moving past large mountainous landforms, some of which had steps ascending further upwards, but Dean could not see what was up there, as it was shrouded in fog. He could see a pale stone, winding bridge leading to an island upon which sat several massive statues, which in turn lead to a set of ground that seemed to just stop.

 

                       By the time they reached the castle, it loomed over them like a massive, almost foreboding beast. Castiel apparently saw the confusion and questioning on Dean’s features, because he answered a question he’d yet to even voice. Or perhaps he’d just read his mind again…

“Members of high authority live here…It’s also used for various other things I’d rather not get into.”

Dean nodded as Estalia lead them in, through immaculate, ornate halls and atriums. They came to a gilded door, opening it into a room composed of marble and stone. Fabulous marble carved out in pillars held ornate vases, near which sat a golden and silver chair, with a winged backboard.

 

                       Upon the chair sat what Dean assumed to be a dragon. He was mostly scale, shimmering silver in the light that filtered through the stain-glass window. Horns of glimmering gold and silver twisting and jutting from his head. His eyes were pale; he almost appeared blind but seemed to notice their presence. Golden rings lay embedded deep within the bridge of his nose, while a ridged, curved horn pierced from the inside of his nostrils. Golden rings lay in his pointed ears, and silver wrist cuffs above his silver clawed fingers, of which one held a silver and gold staff. Thin at the handle, with golden ridges, ending in the shape of a crescent in which a ruby-esque gem was set. His thin neck was decorated with a golden set of pearl-like links, with hanging drops of gold and ruby gems between the links of pearls. Upon his head were long, silver tresses that waved near the bottom, with a braid around the top of his skull.

                      

                       He leaned forward, looking the two of them over with what looked like mild scorn.

“I suppose I owe you both an explanation,” he said, his voice rumbling and deep like thunder; sharp contrast to his appearance. “The two of you have caused quite some trouble.”

The dragon released his staff, leaning it against the chair as he sat back, crossing his legs and appearing to be in thought.

“Dean, your name is?” the dragon asked, and Dean nodded. “We will need your help; both of your help, to stop what has happened. We must change you; turn you into something that can kill this beast, but it is only one small step in what must be done to stop this apocalypse. We have to turn you into one of us; a dragon.”

 

                       Castiel suddenly looked very worried, and terrified, and it made Dean nervous. “Why does it have to be Dean?” the dragon asked.

“Because it is him that helped to bring upon the end of times he has started. I suppose I must explain. What I am about to tell you is locked in the mind of many elder dragons. It is knowledge granted to us upon our maturity. We are forbidden from speaking of it, unless need be. But this is one of those times.

We know you’ve had the visions, Castiel. They’re real; it is not just a product of your imagination. The truth of it is, the Great One did create a race to stop the fighting between the Donasdogamatastos and the Gassagen. They remained nameless for some time, but were eventually named the Drilpi Mahorela. The creation was a failure. It tried to destroy the world. It was ravenous; it ate everything. It ruined anywhere it stepped. The Great One used most of his strength to seal the Drilpi Mahorela away, because they had become invincible, and the Great One lacked the strength to destroy it once and for all.

But he did not desire to wipe the creature from the face of the Earth for eternity. In case it should ever need to return, for reasons unforetold, there was a way to free the beast. In time it was forgotten, but still remained in the minds of a few. We found no need to raise these creatures. But the both of you rose them, by accident.

They were sealed beneath your village, Dean. To raise the Drilpi Mahorela, life needed to be created, between human and dragon, and born where they were sealed away. As they grew within Castiel, they began to stir. It began to cause strange effects on the mortal plane, as you may have noticed. It was our hope that this would fail, as the plan was not foolproof. There was the chance that this would have to be tried multiple times. But as you see, it has happened. Giving birth there caused them to rise. Since the Great One is dead, he can no longer seal away the beasts.

The Drilpi Mahorela cannot be killed by normal means. They can only be destroyed, briefly, by those who caused them to rise. Or one of them, anyway. Castiel is weak from the ordeal, but you are not. It is up to you, Dean, to subdue them. However, they will not die completely. Killing them as a dragon will cause them to die for a full month before reviving. You must destroy those who come to Earth, and then we must move on to the second part of our plan.”

“Which is?”

“At the moment, not important. What is important is changing you.”

“So…I’ve gotta become a dragon. If I change, I might not be able to go home. What happens if I refuse?”

“We die. All of us. They will destroy your home, your children, your family. They will devour the planet until they ascend to the skies and devour us. When their food source is gone, they will die, but so will the planet. They will turn our world into nothing.”

“Alright…So, it shouldn’t be so bad right?” Dean asked nervously, looking over to Castiel, who only shook his head fearfully. “Okay, well , I’ve got to do it anyway it seems like. So, how do we do this?”

“Estalia will take you… They will be waiting.”

 

                       Before long, Estalia was leading them out of the castle, towards the land mass with the steps. Castiel looked so terrified.

“Are you okay…?” Dean asked, moving in close.

“Dean…I don’t know too much about this. But I know it hurts. It really hurts, Dean- for you, and I’m so sorry…I should have stayed at the cave. If I had you wouldn’t…”

“I’ll be okay, Cas.” Dean insisted. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“But it-,”

“Stop falling behind,” Estalia said suddenly, interrupting the other dragon. The both of them sped up, moving through the clouds and fog until they reached the top. Above the clouds was darkness; a swirling cloud of stars and blackness behind an ornate gazebo, with a brazier in the center. A crowd of people stood near the back, all dressed in black cloaks. Their skin mostly covered with the blackness, but Dean could see hints of scales beneath it. There was something odd about these particular dragons, but Dean couldn’t tell what.

“Come, Castiel…” one of the cloaked figures said. A few others moved behind Dean as Castiel stepped forward toward the brazier.

 

                       He stood in front of them, and behind the brazier, and as the cloaked dragons placed their black clawed fingers on Dean’s shoulders, he could see fear in Castiel’s eyes. His chest was heaving as they came behind him, eyes closed and swallowing hard. Castiel seemed to know what was going on, but Dean was suspicious. Suspicion left him, replaced by something far worse when he saw what came next. There was a sharp buzzing in his ears, as his throat closed and his chest constricted as he watched the dragons. He could feel, but not hear himself screaming in rage and shock, as one gripped Castiel’s shoulder, while the other slid a knife across his throat and sent a fountain of crimson flowing into the bowl beneath him.

 

 

**ART:**

The City

 

Ritualists

 

 

Palace Dragon

 

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	20. Burning and Bleeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> EXTREME DEAN WHUMP AHEAD.  
> The following chapter involves graphic depictions of violence and is generally viewed as pretty disgusting. This is probably ONE of the most terrible thing I've ever written. 
> 
> Notes and art at the end of this chapter

Dean shook the dragons away, running forward as Castiel kneeled, bleeding, in front of the bowl.

“What are you doing?!” Dean shouted, ready to kill them at any second. “Cas!”

“Stopping us will kill him,” one of them said. “We are the only things keeping him alive.”

Castiel reached his hand out, trying to smile reassuringly at Dean, though he only manage to choke out a mouth full of blood, with what hadn’t drained from his throat. Dean gripped at his hand, which Castiel gripped tightly. Dean assumed this was part of the ritual, but it was bullshit. He was not consulted on this at all. Neither was Castiel, but he seemed to understand it more than Dean did.

“You’re gonna be okay…” Dean said, reassuringly. “They’ve got you.”

Castiel nodded, and Dean watched his throat move, pushing more blood from the gash into bowl. “I…” Castiel choked out, “K-now…”

 

                       After a moment, there was a bright flash, and Castiel fell beside the brazier, gasping for breath and clutching at his throat, which was now beginning to heal.

“How could you do that without consulting either of us?!” Dean shouted, but they ignored him.

“I was consulted,” Castiel coughed out, gripping at Dean’s arm to calm him. “But I figured it best to say nothing…I knew how you would react if I were to tell you to begin this ritual, they must slit my throat…”

Castiel sat up straighter, still soaked with blood as a few other of what Dean was beginning to think resembled religious cultists traveled to the brazier with a sack full of raw metal. It was poured into the now blood filled basin, and the group of dragons stood near the brazier and held their clawed palms above it.

 

                       Dean watched as energy, or magic he presumed, poured into the basin. It glowed with a red light; a fierce energy that turned into a ball until they reached their hands into its center, pulling out pieces of formed metal. Dean could see no particular form within these pieces; knew not what they meant, but then they turned to him and spoke.

“You must disrobe before we begin this process.”

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Dean began to undress. He felt entirely too watched, but they seemed not to care about the fact that he was undressed. Most of the dragons were entirely naked as it was, which made Dean wonder why these were clothed. Perhaps he would ask about it later. With the metal in their hands, they placed it along Dean’s skin. “This will hurt,” they said.

 

                       Dean began to feel a burning sensation; a terrible burning sensation. He hissed in pain, clenching his fists as he attempted to get past the pain. He realized the burning was literal; it was burning onto the skin. Fusing burnt flesh onto the metal. Dean had been burnt before, by many a dragon. He could handle this. They finished after what seemed like hours, but was most likely minutes. They had burned several pieces of metal into his skin, with various designs. He could see inscriptions on them; symbols he didn’t understand. They lay imbedded on his neck, forearms, biceps, chest, ribs, hips, thighs, and calves. It still felt hot and raw…

 

                       Another dragon produced a chalice, dipping it into the basin and drawing out what looked like remnants of metal, blood, and energy. He was suddenly restrained again, but one look at Castiel told him that he shouldn’t struggle. One gripped his jaw, claws digging into his skin and pushing his head back. They tilted the chalice to his lips, pouring it down his throat. He sputtered, throat burning as the hot liquid poured down into his belly. He could feel it dripping down his chin and neck. It tasted of blood and metal and burned like fire.

 

                       When released, he suddenly felt unsteady on his feet. He found himself falling into Castiel’s arms, who slowly lowered him to the ground, but never let go.

His body felt like it was on fire, but he was shaking like he was cold. His vision seemed blurry and he felt so dizzy.

“I’m so sorry…” Castiel mumbled, gripping him hard. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Cas…” Dean croaked out, trying to move as close to him as possible. “What’s happening to me…? I’m so hot.”

Before Castiel had the chance to answer, he felt a throbbing pain in his mouth, and it began to fill with blood. He spit the rapidly accumulating blood onto the ground, watching with vision that began to blur as his teeth scattered like mice in the dark onto the stone below. He took in a sharp pained gasp, that only lasted a moment before his stomach lurched.

 

                       He felt the bile rise in his throat as he leaned forward and spewed a stream of vomit and blood. It caused an intense, tearing pain deep within him, and he never stopped. Torrents of burning bile and blood, dripping down his chin and his chest until he felt something blocking his throat. He was choking; what was he choking on? Desperately, as he continued to gag, he reached his fingers into his bleeding mouth, grabbing onto what felt like a fleshy tube. It hurt and felt as though his insides were tearing as he pulled but he couldn’t breathe…! He gripped hard, gagging and pulling before the pain began in his fingers. As he began to pull the tube from his throat he watched as his nails stuck in the bloody flesh, tearing off when he moved. He vaguely registered something hot pouring down the back of his thighs and the increasing coppery smell of blood and sewage, but he felt even his sense of smell was beginning to fail him.

 

                       He gave a final pull, gasping in a deep breath as he pulled a curved mass from his mouth, scraping it against his bare, bleeding gums that gave way and trialed away from the bleeding maw on what he had pulled from his throat; grey, rotten, and dead. It was heavy in his hands, covered in capillaries and veins that ran beneath the translucent, fleshy surface. He realized he was holding his stomach in his hands; the organ itself, free from his body and exposed. He wanted to scream; wanted to call for help, but he was choking again. Something still attached to that tube…He pulled again, and he found it increasingly hard to breathe. He was gasping, but it felt like there was no air coming through. It hurt terribly but he needed to breathe. He needed to stop choking…

                      

                       Moments before he pulled the mass from his throat he watched as his fingers began to melt; the skin becoming liquid and falling off like a disgusting sludge, leaving exposed bone beneath. He would scream if he could. But what he pulled from his mouth was thick and massive; a pair of thick, fleshy flaps that suddenly slipped down onto the floor as they emerged. He couldn’t breathe…He couldn’t breathe, but he wasn’t choking. Oh God, those were his lungs.

 

                       Suddenly the vision went black in one eye, and with the one that still worked he watched as the ocular organ slipped down his cheek, melted and damaged, into the pile that he had already produced on the ground. He had never wanted to scream and cry so badly in his life, but there was nothing to push out the sound anymore. Instead, just the sound of his gasping breaths of air that went into empty cavities. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to draw in air at all. The other eye soon joined it and he found himself blind, but the pain was still there. He could feel hot blood dripping from his ears and nose now; the feeling like he was being skinned alive. Good God, he probably was. He started to lose touch with reality. He felt pain but he forgot where he was. It was nothing but pain and darkness. His mind became fuzzier and fuzzier until there was absolutely nothing. He was gone; in a black void of nothing. No thought, no existence.

 

                       Then, suddenly, he was there again. He wasn’t sure where he was, or what he was, but he could feel. He could feel raw flesh and exposed organ. Pain and agony, and then suddenly he felt a scream rip from his throat. A rough gasp of air breathing into exposed lungs. He never stopped screaming; he never stopped crying. When he could see again he looked down at his body and saw there was nothing. Muscles forming over his pulsing organs that slowly began to lose exposure as he developed. Everything was raw; there was no skin, no adipose tissue; just muscle and bone. Then, the skin began to develop, covering the bloody fibers. He was coming back, but still shaking and vulnerable.

 

                       Though his body returned, the pain didn’t stop immediately. There was a sharp pain in his spine, followed by a cracking and tearing noise. He felt something tearing from his skin, like sharp blades cutting through the new flesh. He could feel extensions of his body that he had never felt before, and other parts that seemed to be missing. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto Castiel until he suddenly jerked away, feeling weak and shaking.

“Take it easy, Dean…” Castiel said, his voice drifting into his ears but sounding disjointed. He felt like his mind was in a fog and nothing was real. When his body began to recover, he realized his surroundings slowly. He looked down at his hands, which were now covered with black scales. They rose to his forearms, changing colors to a varying gradient of black, green, blue, and hints of violets. The metal was there, still burned and branded to his flesh-scales, rather. He had black claws, with what looked like silver runes from cuticle to tip.

 

                       Beneath his hands were torrents of blood. Slick and wetting the stone, mixed with other things. Skin, chunks of tissue, lungs, stomach, heart, intestines… Every organ but the brain, it seemed. He noticed differentiating streaks in the blood and Dean imagined he had probably shit himself at some point, but who wouldn’t? He lost his entire body; he assumed even that had to come out with it. It was still slightly embarrassing… He managed to scoot away, dragging himself through the tissue, shit, bile, and blood more than he would have liked. He was entirely messy and bloody. He felt reborn. Shaking like a wee babe, bloody and disgusting. He had intended to stand, which was his reason for moving, but the moment he tried he found himself colliding with the stone. He clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

 

                       Castiel came to sit with him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, you need to stop. Your body needs to adjust. Don’t try to stand.”

“Cas…” Dean said, voice hoarse and tongue feeling heavy and wrong in his mouth. His mouth felt different…He ran his tongue along his teeth, which were thankfully back again. The canines were sharp, both top and bottom, as were the lateral incisors. “Cas…am I dead?”

“You _were_ dead, but you’re not anymore.”

“I died…? Was I supposed to die?”

“Yes…in order for you to become a dragon, you needed to die first. You needed to be recreated. The metal on your body absorbed what made you, you. Your thoughts, your memories, your personality, the structure of your genetics. It rebuilt you from the places where they were placed.”

 

                       Dean looked the dragon over blearily, mind still fuzzy and not quite comprehending everything. Castiel was covered in blood, and for some reason the first thought that came to his mind was not quite logical. He almost felt a little drunk…

“Did I hurt you?”

“No…This is yours.”

Dean nodded, but he wasn’t quite sure he understood. His mind was too fuzzy…fuzzier and fuzzier, until it was blackness again.

 

\---

 

                       Dean awoke sometime later, feeling very uncomfortable. There were things in the way; things that shouldn’t be there. Dean couldn’t understand the feelings he was having. The feeling of something that he shouldn’t even have. What the hell had happened? He rose a bit, feeling stiff and confused by all these differences. Then he remembered…

“Dean,” Castiel said, and he saw him sitting near the bed he was in. They were in a small, but beautiful room. It was mostly marble, with a gilded bed covered with red silk sheets. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird…”he mumbled, and flexed his new wings. Which he realized was strange; he was flexing his wings. He had never had wings… This felt so strange. “This is all so strange. I don’t even know what I’ve gained or what I look like…”

“Do you want to see?” Castiel asked curiously, to which Dean nodded emphatically. Castiel helped him from the bed, leading him into a room that had a mirror with an ornate, golden frame. But Dean didn’t care much about the frame. What he saw was shocking…

 

                       His eyes trailed along his naked body. So much was different. Notably so, and worriedly, Dean noticed he no longer possessed an external penis.

“Do I…Do I still have my dick?”

“Yes…Whether or not that’s all that’s in there remains to be certain. More than likely you have a penis, and only a penis…In terms of genitalia, that is. That is to say, you are most likely not like me.”

Dean only nodded and studied the rest of him. His scaling was similar to Castiel’s, he noted. Black, blue, and green stripes along his pectorals. His thighs were black, with bits of green and blue coloring. Around what was not just a long slit, his skin turned to a seafoam green scale. It almost resembled the way that pubic hair would grow, reaching towards his navel and extending onto some of his inner, upper thighs.

 

                       Bright blues and blacks striped either thigh, while a dark purple and black stripe on each hip extended towards the bone of his pelvis. His ribs were scaled, unlike Castiel’s. Blues, fading to blue-greens, into black, and to bright green. Turning slightly, Dean found it wasn’t just his ribs; it extended all the way across his back. His eyes were bright green, shimmering and filled with variations of color and depth. Almost like two galaxies in his skull, separated by two black slits of pupil. Around them was similar scaling, blue and green, shadowing his eyes like Castiel’s, although the scales extended in dots and stripes along parts of his nose and cheeks, reaching towards his ears that were not pointed instead of human. His hair was the same, but from it now spouted two long, golden horns, which matched the golden spiked tail extending from his back.

 

                       His wings…They certainly were strange. Nothing like Castiel’s, or any other dragon’s for that matter. The main arms of the wings were leathery, jutting from his back and colored with various shades of dark blues, browns, greens, and blacks. Near his back, Dean noticed thick armor like protrusions covering the wing, beneath which were small blue and brown feathers. The tops of the arms had a translucent, reddish membrane stretched from shoulder to the end of what might be considered an ulna. Closer to his body, there were bright red, black, and green translucent membranes, with sharp spines holding them together. Beneath the membranes, and further on down the wing, it changed. The wing it’s self seemed to be covered in smaller, bladed wings, almost like an insect but Dean could tell, after running a hand along it, that it was a flesh like membrane, unlike an insect.

 

                       Dean spread his wings in the mirror, watching as they expanded. It almost seemed natural for him; almost. It still didn’t feel quite right. He knew how to move them, but did he know how to use them?

“What am I…? What kind of dragon? And why are our scales so similar?”

“What you are isn’t named. You are the first of your kind… Your scales resemble mine in a way, because it was my blood that was used to make the metal that reformed you. As you see…they’re not exact, but similar. How do you feel, other than strange?”

“Tired…weak. How do they expect me to fight like this?”

“It will take some time for you to be able to master this new form, and for you to recover from this ordeal. In a week, you should be in fighting shape. But don’t get hurt…I don’t want to see you in pain ever again. What I watched you go through was terrible…”

“I agree, it was terrible,” Dean mumbled. He was still staring at himself in the mirror in awe. He barely even recognized himself… In the back of his mind, Dean wondered if he’d ever be able to return to his village. But if he saved the planet, maybe they would accept a dragon who lived among them.

 

_**ART:** _

 

_**DEANS NEW FORM:** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art does not completely depict what happened in the story, obviously. When I did this pic I intended it to go a different way, but I changed my mind in the end. It's sort of similar though, just without all the nasty disgusting shit in the background. Kind of literally shit in the background. 
> 
> The transformation sequence was inspired by something else from a video game. I give credit by saying the idea was not completely mine, but inspired by something else.  
> One of the lines in here is half of a direct line from the game in which this moment took place.  
> But I leave it up to the reader to figure out just where this came from if they choose to.  
> Because I like to keep it fun


	21. The Bear And The Maiden Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept thinking of that damn song during this chapter I'm sorry  
> There's art at the end of the chapter which should really be viewed, as it's pics of their environment with explanation on how things work.   
> Also there's something questionable at the end  
> but I encourage you to not stop reading because of it because it is a mere mention   
> I will explain a lot at the end of this chapter.

It took about two days for Dean to recover from his transformation. The moment he was able to walk, they moved them to another residence, it seemed like. It was beautiful. Everything was of such fine quality… The house did not seem to be made completely of the same material; Dean found that parts of it differed, slightly, stylistically.

 

                       Castiel helped him recover those days, and on the third, he began trying to teach him how to control magic. He was able to produce small amounts of visible energy from his palms, be he had no idea what that was supposed to mean. They had taken a break briefly, as Castiel decided he’d get a good stretch of his wings now that he was able to. He flew around the general area, finally coming back later that day, heading to the outside bathing pool to bathe. He was sore, and he wanted to relax his wings. He thought perhaps he should join him, but what transpired was definitely not what he expected.

 

                       For privacy matters, the bathing pool was surrounded by a large gate, that further on past it, lead to a small outdoor balcony, past the opposite door. He pushed past the massive gate, shutting it behind him. Castiel hadn’t noticed him yet, but he’d certainly noticed Castiel… Dean always found him attractive, more or less, but right now was something special. He was standing there, with the bath already filled, pouring a jug of water over himself for the sake of cooling down, it seemed. It was far more attractive than it should be…

 

                       His head was tilted back, hair wet by the water as it trickled down his neck, pooling slightly at his clavicle. Dean’s eyes seemed to follow every droplet of water, especially the ones trickling towards those shapely hips of his. It made something stir inside him; arousal, obviously, but it felt somewhat different. He supposed it was because his penis was in a different place now… Dean was finding that problematic as well; it made peeing so much weirder now that he couldn’t just stand and go like a normal man, because he was unable to extract his genitals like he was before. In truth, Dean had never seen, nor felt, his own cock as of yet. He felt like he sensed it now, more than ever. With that heat pooling in his belly, trickling down into his groin and making him want to be touched in places he couldn’t even see. It was arousal, yes, but easily ignorable arousal, until Castiel actually turned to him. Then something strange hit him. Almost like a smell; something sweet but slightly musky. He had never smelled anything like it before, but it wasn’t just that it was pleasant. It was positively arousing. It made his breath catch in his throat, his mind buzz with need. The muscles inside around his cock were twitching with arousal and he felt like he was probably getting an erection. Something felt stiff; pushing at his insides like it hadn’t before.

 

                       Castiel stared at him for a moment before beckoning forward, and Dean followed like an obedient dog, led by its dick instead of a leash. God, that smell got worse, and he didn’t know why he’d never smelled it before but it seemed to come from Castiel. It was absolutely intoxicating and he felt like he could drown in it. He was stepping into the bath before he even realized it, feeling the water rise against his legs. Once he was close enough, the dragon had his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling him close enough so that he could push his lips against his, insistent and desperate. He was pushing his hips forward eagerly, trying to find something to grind against and it happened to be Dean. He felt like he was famished; he wanted more. God, he smelled so intoxicating. He couldn’t help but trail down further; down his neck, until he was practically drowning in the smell of him, but God he wanted to keep drowning.

 

                       He found himself dragging his tongue down Castiel’s midsection like a ravenous beast, nipping and biting at whatever flesh he chose, with his new, sharp teeth. He was down to his knees before he even realized, as he was before. Now more bathed with water as he gripped Castiel’s hips, dragging his tongue down the edge of his sheath. He was exuding that intoxicating aroma from here; it was the smell of sweet sex and need. His tongue dipped lower, further into his sheath and Dean couldn’t help but moan out at the slickness on his tongue. He tasted different; sweet like honey, almost. He didn’t understand why he was so different now; why he could smell him. Why he made Dean want him so much. It was so overpowering, and he felt himself panting slightly as he licked with fervor at the opening in his sheath. He had his hips pushed forward, desperate for more. Pushed up against the fountain of the bath, eyes drifted shut and breathing in slight pants.

 

                       This was all he wanted; him. The taste of him; his scent, the way he drove him wild, just from here. Dean had never had pussy this good; not even with the pussy he was currently tongue deep in. He was practically addicted. He looked up, from what he could see, watching him coming apart above him, gripping at the stone behind him now. He was crying out softly, grinding his crotch against Dean’s tongue, still not erect visibly yet, but Dean had seen this a few times before. When he paid no attention to where his cock was, sometimes it wouldn’t make itself present even when he was obviously aroused.

“Dean…” he moaned out suddenly, placing his hand on the back of Dean’s head as he pushed his face closer to him. He let out a shuddering moan, biting down on his lip and tightening his fingers in his hair as he came, muscles pulsing against Deans tongue and causing an excess of the viscous fluid to flow onto his tongue. The intoxicating smell dissipated for a moment, as he pulled away, but came back a moment later, strong as ever. Castiel looked down at him, breathing heavily as Dean sat back into the bath. “I need more of you…” Dean only swallowed and nodded.

 

                       Castiel lead him over to the side of the bath, gesturing for him to sit on the higher edge. Once he was positioned, Castiel knelt between his legs, kissing at his thighs softly as he moved his mouth towards Dean’s sheath. Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he let out a surprised, yet pleased gasp. Oh fuck, that was nice. He ran his tongue along it, up through the opening and slicking his insides with saliva. Each pass of the muscle sent shocks of pleasure racing up his spine. This was different; it was nerve laden, and intense. He found himself gripping at the stone, while the other hand drifted towards his head. He was spreading his legs for him, wanting him closer because fuck, that was nice. That was so nice…

 

                       He was reacting inside, the muscles pulsing hard around his most likely erect cock, which was just begging to be touched, but he couldn’t get to it. There was a sudden movement inside him, and his hips arched off the stone as his cock suddenly slid from the sheath, pulling it open while the organ pushed forward. He let out a shuddering blow of breath, feeling air hitting something that was usually hidden. It was damn sensitive, he knew that, and fairly large at the base. When Castiel gripped at it, running his tongue from base to tip, Dean’s head tilted back, eyes drifted shut as he let out a moan. It was so much better…

 

                       With his chest heaving slightly, he looked down at the dragon who pulled his cock into his fanged mouth, again scraping his teeth lightly across the skin, just enough to feel good. His head bobbed on his cock for a moment before pulling away, leaving one last hard lick to the underside, and it made Dean’s hips jerk forward in response. Castiel stood, pulling himself closer to Dean, settling his legs on either side of his hips. His hands gripped at Dean’s side as he tried to steady himself, moving to sink Dean’s cock into his practically dripping cunt.

 

                       Dean gave a sudden jerk, thrusting his hips up in reaction and hissing, trying to steady the both of them as he had nearly dislodged Castiel and knocked him into the water.

“Is this safe?” Dean asked, struggling not to thrust deeper into him. Castiel only nodded, and Dean wasn’t going to ask any more. The older dragon pushed himself down further, sinking onto Dean’s cock and trying to adjust to the girth inside of him. He hadn’t been touched here much, as often, and Dean was slightly bigger now. As he began to move, Dean placed his hands on his hips, perhaps a little too tightly. He heard him let out a breathy moan, pushing himself down again, but it was too slow, and Dean didn’t feel in control near enough. He gripped under Castiel’s thighs, suddenly standing with the dragon still impaled on his dick, turning around quickly enough so that he didn’t fall. He managed to get him somewhat seated where Dean had been moments ago, waiting for him to readjust himself. He pulled his thighs around his hips, and Castiel took the hint and wrapped his legs around him.

 

                       When Castiel was secure, Dean was gripping at his hips again and yanking him forward to meet his thrusts, claws digging into the flesh. The sudden thrust punched a surprised moan from Castiel’s lungs, as he used the hand not gripping the stone behind him to grip around the back of Dean’s shoulders, hand fastened to the boney wing protrusions from his shoulder blades. His hips grinded against Dean’s, rolling with his and joining his thrusts.

 

                       He leaned forward to nip at the skin of Castiel’s lip, kissing down his jaw and scraping his fanged teeth along the slight stubble of his skin. His kisses trailed downwards, along his neck as the heat of his panted breaths fanned against his skin. When Dean got to his collar bone, he felt a strange desire come over him. He started with kissing, licking and nipping at the area, but the more he fucked him, the more primal he felt. His claws were digging into Castiel’s hips, tearing the skin and drawing blood from the area. He felt it wet and hot on his fingers, dripping from his claws, but he didn’t stop. His kissing turned into biting; hard biting. He sunk his teeth deep into his collar bone and held on, gripping his hips hard and slamming him against his cock.

 

                       Castiel cried out in pain, but it was mixed with that of pleasure, and he didn’t bother to tell Dean to stop. His hips still rolled against Dean’s, and Dean vaguely noticed the feeling of Castiel’s hot, pulsing cock jamming into his stomach. But Dean soon became unsatisfied with their position. He wanted to touch Castiel, but with their current position, it would be harder to reach him. Castiel was already using all of his effort to keep himself from falling off the edge of the bath, and Dean was helping this by grabbing onto his hips. If he moved his hands, Castiel might fall… Dean suddenly pulled away, watching his cock pull from him, fluids slicking his member, bridging the viscous from it to his leaking, slightly gaping cunt, after being thoroughly fucked.

“Turn around…” Dean practically growled, voice rough with desire and sex. He didn’t hesitate, slipping down off the edge of the bath, leaning over the stone and presenting himself for Dean like an eager whore.

“No, not like that,” Dean said, running his hands along his side as he eased him up, so that rather than leaning over it, he was propped up on it. His arms half straight, so he was not bent over completely, but rather half standing.

 

                       Dean kissed the back of his neck, running his hands down to Castiel’s hips, while one slipped between his legs and ran along his sheath. He pulled his fingers away wet and slick.

“You’re so wet for me…” Dean growled, scraping his teeth along his skin again. He reached that hand between his own legs, gripping at his cock and lining it up until he was able to push back into him. The dragon arched his back, letting out a content sigh and pushing himself down onto it.

 

                       One hand came to rest upon Castiel’s hip, while the other gripped his neglected cock, pumping slowly at first until matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He leaned against Castiel’s wings, breathing out exerted moans as he thrust into him, each with more fervor and frequency. His grip was tight on his cock and his claws were digging into his hip again, and before he knew it he was sinking his fangs into one of Castiel’s wings. Blood flooded into his mouth, dripping down his chin and back onto the dragon below him. He had bit harder than he intended… He hadn’t really intended at all, but it seemed like second nature. He released the hold on is wing, moving up and instead finding his teeth sunk into his shoulder. He was getting closer by the second, and he could tell that the desperate moans and movements signaled that he was as well.

 

                       The feathered dragon suddenly arched back, body trembling and wings extended and shaking with the sensations running through every nerve, as Dean brought him to orgasm yet a second time. He felt the muscles tighten around his cock, and a mass of thin fluid dripping down onto him, while he felt the hot come spurt onto his hand. It only took him a few more pumps into and he was coming as well, body stiffened and teeth bitten hard into Castiel’s shoulder while his claws pushed even further into his skin. He moaned against him, releasing his biting hold on Castiel’s shoulder with a slick popping tear as he pulled away a piece of skin. It was hot as hell, and he felt it deep in his body as it released into his lover. It sent all his nerves in a frenzy, and his hips jerked an additional few times as his body tried to get all it could out of this orgasm.

“Why do you always do that…?” Dean mumbled afterwards, face resting against Castiel’s back.

“I’m very sensitive…”

 

                       When Dean pulled away, he found that he was covered in blood, and Castiel was covered in serious gashes and bite wounds.

“Oh God…” Dean said, looking down at his hands, wiping away the blood dripping from his mouth. “Cas, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-,”

“It’s fine,” Castiel breathed, “I understand.”

“Getting an early start? I don’t think that’s going to work.” came a female voice from off in the distance. Castiel quickly pulled away from Dean, who found himself retracting now that he was no longer lack-of-balls deep in Castiel’s body.

“Zynoa , I don’t even know why they allow you to stay here!” Castiel shouted, submerged himself in the water with shame, while Dean just stood there in confusion. “Is your sister-lover with you, too?”

“Yes, she’s with me,” said the voice again.

 

                       Dean watched as a pair of dragons appeared from behind the fountain. One of them was dark skinned; far darker than any dragon he’d yet to see. Her markings were also very strange. Black scales running from neck to the bottom of her crotch, while others dotted her arms, legs, and side. Black, purple, and white scales ran along her forehead and chin, while her lips were colored gold. Along with her scales, she had what looked like tattoos of black and white running in various areas of her body. Her sclera was black, irises gold and slit with a brilliant sheen covering the entire ocular. Her face was decorated with piercings; one in her lip, and through her nose, in the shape of a dragon. On her pointed ears were various earrings, gold like the rest of her jewelry. Spirals of gold decorated her neck, where another necklace lay in front of it, including a medium-length chain with a strange pendant on it. A spiral circle with what looked like a tooth hanging from it. The spirals also decorated her biceps and legs, the latter of which connected to a pair of spiked, dangerous looking shin guards. Behind her hung a spiked, golden tail; similar to Dean’s. She had her hair pulled up in some sort of bun; medium black hair, with strands of silver hanging down beside her face, while in the back was a sort of loop, held in place by an ornate hair piece. Dean could only describe her as vaguely voluptuous, with wide hips and thighs, and large breasts.

 

                       Beside her was her far more fair-skinned counterpart. Her scales were similar; in the same place as the other’s, but some of them were lighter. She seemed to have some sort of scarification on her sides, instead of the tattoo. Not unlike her counterpart was here eyes; the sclera black, but the iris silver, and lacking the sheen. Her hair hung loose about her face, varying silvers and pale blues running through the silken strands. In her nose was a spiral silver ring, but it seemed to be her only piercing. Her biceps were decorated with the same spiral bands, but silver, and she too possessed the shin guards, but also had matching arm guards. A silvery tail hung from her much more slender body. She was indeed thin, and her breasts were far smaller.

 

                       Dean could see the both of them were elders, as they both lacked wings, but he had no idea who they were, and why they were there. Furthermore, how long had he been there…? Castiel didn’t seem pleased about this either. Despite the fact that they were barging into his own backyard, he still ducked down into the water along with Castiel for the sake of decency, although technically he wasn’t exposing anything more than they were.

“What do you mean by getting an early start?”

“You do know about their plan, right?” asked the fair haired one.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Explain yourself promptly, Amarizi.”

“Sorry, no can do,” the one known as Zynoa said. “Not in our power.”

Castiel scoffed angrily, leaning back against the bath, “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to have something to think about when I’m masturbating later,” Amarizi said.

“Get out of here! I swear I will find a way to have you banned from Oadriax!”

“You’ll need us later, Castiel. Have fun,” Zynoa said, heading off with the other dragon.

 

                       Dean was more than confused, but he found it best to stay out of their business for the time being, as he had no idea what was going on. He was feeling pretty irritated about the whole business, though. Who did they think they were?

“Who were they…?”

“Zynoa and Amarizi… They’re elder dragons… They’ve been around forever, but they…they’re strange, and generally disliked. As you can see, with what they just did…”

“So they’re…what? Lovers? Sisters? Acquaintances?”

“Lovers…and sisters. They’re related.”

“Oh…Oh!” Dean said, suddenly feeling as though a great realization had just been thrust upon him.

“It’s frowned upon around here…And in the dragon community in general,”

“Is it…?” Dean asked nervously. “I didn’t think you’d have rules like that.”

“It’s not a rule, it’s just frowned upon. Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous…”

“Experimentation between siblings is not that uncommon, truthfully. It isn’t here, too. It’s staying together for a millennia and being devious sex fiends, and generally annoying… So on that note, I don’t care what you and your brother did, once, as adolescents…”

“Get out of my head, Cas, jeez!” Dean said, blushing slightly. “Shouldn’t have even said anything. I mean, it was nothing-,”

“I understand. I know what’s in your head, remember? Forget about it.”

 

                       Dean cleared his throat, “So, who are they, really? If they cause such issues, why are they here?”

“They’re useful in some ways, apparently. They had a brief acquaintance with my parents when I was but a child. I was told horror stories of them later on. They are obsessed with fucking each other, and they just don’t know how to follow the rules. But as I said, they are useful, so they are kept here for that reason. I never understood the whole sex thing when I was younger; why they would be having sex if they were not copulating… At this point I thought it had something to do with the fact that they were both insane, but I suppose I understand it now. Still, with other people, not with your sister, for longer than I can count…I don’t know what they want with me though, or why they say I’ll need them. I’m very confused, and to be honest, a tad bit afraid…”

 

                       Castiel shifted to lean against him, letting out a tired sigh. “I don’t always trust Oadriax…I’m almost afraid they might be up to something…nefarious. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do at the moment, if we want to stop this threat.”

Dean was nervous as well, now. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but Castiel probably had no clue what the answers were. Instead, he changed the subject to try to quell the beast of curiosity in his brain.

“Cas…what happened earlier? Between us? I don’t understand, that was so weird…”

“It’s complicated. Not to explain, but in general, it really complicates things. It’s something I thought was only for mating, but I understand now. It’s pheromones, more or less. A scent that comes from us when we are aroused, or ready to mate. It carries signals to our brains that arouse us even more.

I’m not sure what I did to arouse you earlier, but I felt it. I smelled it on you. When it hit me, it did the same. I’m guessing you smelled it on me, and your scent became even stronger. It was almost unbearable; it drove me crazy inside…”

“You tasted sweet…” Dean mumbled, trying to figure this out in his head.

“That is possibly a side-effect…Either way, if either of us gets aroused, it will drive the both of us crazy until we can get used to it.”

“But why did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to do that…”

“Because you are no longer human. In your aroused state your body was telling you to mate. Dragons sometimes can mate violently. It is suppressed over years of being one, but since you are so new, it must be stronger. In a way, I guess, you were almost animalistic. I’m assuming this is why you bit me, and held on.”

“Are you hurt?”

“It stings a little, but I’ll be alright,” Castiel said, touching one of the bite marks on his collarbone.

Dean nodded, and sighed. Being a dragon was a lot harder than he thought…

 

 

 

_**ART** _

_Entrance:_

 

The entrance of their 'home' is  a tower-like room, with various books in different language near the entrance. The stain glass windows hide a secret; two doors that lead onto a small balcony. A bench sits at the top in front of the unopening windows 

 

_**The Master Bedroom** _

 

Where the dragons sleep

 

_**Unknown Room** _

 

A room thought to be a spare bedroom, but it's purpose is of yet, unknown, as there is yet another bedroom aside from this one.

 

_**The Privy** _

 

 

A small room with an overly ornate hole that functions as a toilet. A slow flowing river runs beneath said toilet, but water runs in from an alternate source in the hole above to keep the water flowing. The make-shift waterfall also aids in filling the bowl which is used for cleaning one's self after doing one's business because even though they are dragons they are not savages.

 

_**The Bathing Garden** _

 

 

 

The bathing garden is, as it says, a garden in which you bathe. The pool is fairly deep, but not too deep. A river flows beneath the bath as well. The fountain-esque apparatus on the back of the pool allows water to be poured in at will. A mechanism at the back, when pulled up, causes the water to flow upwards through a complex system of mechanics, and into the tub. When pushed down the river resumes it's normal flow beneath the bath and the water stops flowing. 

There is a drain in the bottom of the bath that, when removed, drains the water into the same river that filled it. Dirty water is taken away, as it flows away from the bath, while anything that comes into the bath is clean, as the drain lays near the edge of the pool, away from the fountain, so that dirty water does not get mixed in with the water that pours into the bath.

 

_**The Sitting Room:** _

 

It's just a sitting room.

 

More rooms to be added as they are finished. 

 

 

**Porn pretty much:**

I intended for them to fuck outside of the bath but it was just too inconvenient

 

 

The 'unknown room' was actually intended to be their bedroom but I found the Montespan bedroom available and thought it made more sense.

 

 

_**Dean from the back:** _

 

 

Zynoa (left) and Amarizi (right) (I'm terrible at directions so in case I fucked up, Zynoa is the dark skinned one, Amarizi is the light skinned one)

 

 

 

Please stay tuned in the notes for important Taming The Dragon information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to elaborate on the incest/Wincest   
> It was brought up because of the whole incestuous sisters thing.   
> Despite the fact that he's not actually Dean I still have headcanons about my own characters and I have a headcanon that they probably experimented when they were younger. Then that was it. It was harmless experimenting. So while I don't even really ship Wincest, I still see it happening in this case.  
> And on that note, this will not head in that direction. There will be no Wincest, other than that vague mention. 
> 
> And onto a note about future art: 
> 
> You may notice, as of late, I have stopped doing wings. The problem with wings is they are fucking ridiculous.   
> It is not just because I am too lazy to render them; that's only part of the problem.   
> The other is that they are a major pain in the ass to use and pose and in some cases it is impossible to use them without them cutting through a wall or a bed or something.  
> The third, the only time I can render wings without a problem is if they are far away. Rendering wings close up; even sometimes not that close at all; has the tendency to make my machine either:  
> A. Slow to a crawl  
> B. Run out of memory and refuse to render the rest of the picture which can...  
> C. Cause the entire program to crash and lose data because sometimes I forget to save
> 
> For some reason the wings cause the program to run out of memory when rendered close up  
> Meaning if I want to render it I have to do it blind; I can't even see what I'm rendering or it will run out of memory  
> So if I run into a problem, I don't know it for three-four hours. Because that's how long it takes; three-four hours, sometimes five, for the fucker to render in the background.   
> And if I render it blind, and something goes horribly wrong, I have to lose another three-four hours of my life fixing and rerendering...   
> And so, THIS is why my dragons are missing wings when they normally have them.  
> They will still show up sometimes  
> But not all the time  
> Because they are a pain in the ass.


	22. The Final Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promo art at the end of this chapter.

A few days had gone by since Dean was able to produce slight amounts of energy magic, but in those days Dean had learned a lot. It wasn’t quite as hard to control his dragon body as he had once thought. Dean was now able to produce many types of dragon magic, though there was still much he could learn. When he had mastered most of the types of useful magic, it was time for them to teach him something else; transformation. He was taken outdoors, and Castiel attempted to teach him.

“You need to really concentrate. Like you do with your magic. Bring it from deep within yourself…”

Dean let out a breath, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate. He just had to figure this out… If Cas could do it, so could he. He rolled his shoulders, letting out another breath. He could do this…

 

                       But damn if he didn’t try for about ten minutes with no result.

“It’s not workin’, Cas…”

“I don’t know how to explain any better than I have, Dean…It’s natural to me; to us. I haven’t had to deal with this…”

“Alright, alright…” Dean said, sighing and concentrating again. He took in a breath again, waiting for something; anything to happen, and then he felt it. His body felt strange; like he was floating, and like he didn’t exist. Like he’d lost his entire body but he was still conscious. He dare not open his eyes in fear of what he’d see. Suddenly, he felt himself, but different. Larger, on four legs, and a lot heavier. He raised one ‘hand’, to see that it was a dark grey, with massive sharp claws. Useful.

 

                       He raised his wings, flapping them briefly to try to get the feel for them in his new body. Dean had already flown before, but not as a full-fledged dragon. Within a moment, he was able to lift himself from the ground. He had to strain a little harder than before; he weighed a lot more.

“You’re doing well,” Castiel complimented from the ground. Dean realized now that his vision and hearing was a little different. It was sharper, and louder. His senses were heightened in this form. “Do you think you’ve got the hang of it?”

Dean tried to speak, but all that came out was a guttural roar.

“Nod if you understand. It’s hard to speak the human tongue with the shape of your mouth.” So, Dean merely nodded.

“Maybe you should try sparring. Do you want Estalia to teach you? Estalia can heal both you and themselves.”

Dean nodded again, and it took a moment before he was led elsewhere, at which point Castiel retrieved Estalia.

 

 

                       Estalia spoke to him; their mouth trained more in the human speech, even with their dragon maw, though it was not perfect. “I am spar with you?” they asked. Dean could only nod. Estalia took on a defensive position, staring him down.

“I will not hold back,” Estalia said. “Prepare you for real fight.”

This made Dean a little nervous, but he nodded. “Will heal if hurt. Do not kill, understand?” again, he nodded. “Ready?” Yet again, another nod. He had to know how to fight another dragon.

 

                       Estalia rushed at him suddenly, and before he knew it Dean was on the ground, with Estalia on top of him. He felt the pain of claws in his shoulders, and with pure instinct he had his back legs pushing into Estalia’s stomach, kicking him off and managing to roll to the side. With Estalia on the ground, Dean was on top of his back in a second, with his wing in his mouth. Gripping down harder than he should; this was sparring, but Dean’s mind told him he was out for blood. Estalia flapped his wings, enough to shove Dean off just enough so that he was on his side, pinned by Estalia’s claws, with the dragon’s jaws on his neck. Teeth sinking into the skin, tearing at his flesh. Dean thrashed his tail, and Estalia roared as he felt himself somehow hooked.

 

                       Dean realized now that he had a massive set of two curved hooks at the end of his tail, which were not stuck in Estalia’s leg. Estalia struggled to move away, but Dean’s tail was stuck. He pulled it forward, hook still in, dragging the dragon forward and pinning it on its back before sinking his teeth into his neck. He twisted his head, attempting to snap the bone. It was then that Estalia screamed out “Stop!”

But Dean didn’t; and it was only with pure willpower that Estalia pinned him down and got him to calm down, before Dean killed them. When Dean was calm, Estalia managed to get the hooks from their leg and backed up, chest heaving. They healed momentarily, before turning back to humanoid form to prove they were not a threat.

“I’m going to need you to turn back so I can heal you,” Estalia said. Dean was able to turn back fairly easily; it was a lot easier the second time, turning back, now that he knew how to do it.

 

                       He was sore and in pain; bite marks on his neck and scratches on his body. Estalia healed him fairly quickly, still panting slightly.

“I think you’re ready…but I don’t suggest you spar again for some time. You are far too bloodthirsty…”

“Sorry about that…” Dean said, feeling slight remorse. “I don’t know what happened…”

“It is alarming, but normal. Do you think you’re ready to face the Drilpi Mahorela?”

“You said I was ready, didn’t you?”

“In my opinion, yes. But you must decide if you are ready to take this step.”

“Let’s get this over with…” Dean said, truly wanting to be just done with this so he could go home. But what happened when he went home?

Dean wondered if everything was still there. His village, his house, his brother, his children… He wondered how Castiel felt about this, too. Their eggs were still down on Earth; what was protecting them? Could Sam protect them? What if he’d been killed? What if he had lost both his children and his brother? Dean pushed the thought from his mind.

“How do I find them?”

“They are near your village. Do you think you can still locate it?”

“I’m sure I can…”

“When you are ready…go. Find them; destroy what you can.”

 

\---

 

                       Dean waited until the next day to finally depart. He bid Castiel goodbye, and then made his way down to Earth. He made a quick circle around his village, finding that it wasn’t that damaged. His home was still there, intact, but a few of the buildings and homes surrounding it were destroyed. He needed to take care of this, and quick. The sooner their life returned to partially normal, the better. He headed into the woods, finding the black slime everywhere now, and a few of the Drilpi Mahorela attempting to attack someone who had wandered just too far. He dive bombed the pair of dragons, thrashing at them with his hooked tail to try to disperse them from the innocent human. Once freed, they ran away promptly. It left him with the two dragons, who were displeased it seemed, that Dean had taken away their lunch. Hissing at him, they vomited their black fluids in his direction, and he barely managed to avoid them. He hooked his tail into one’s throat, pulling at it to rip the beast’s neck open, spilling the black, sticky blood all over the ground.

 

                       As the beast struggled, Dean went for the second one. His fangs on its neck, pulling at it and attempting to snap its neck. The injured beast behind him suddenly stood, lunging at him and grabbing his side, sinking his fangs deep into Dean’s scales. He felt a little overwhelmed at this point, but the beast was still injured; its neck gashed open and gushing fluid. Dean kicked at it, slashing its belly open with his claws. It was almost scarily familiar, as his claws split the skin and the blackened organs and blood spilled out of its gaping wound. There would be no healing this beast. With the creature now considerably weakened, Dean’s fangs sank further into the other’s neck, twisting his head and snapping its neck with a sickening crack. He pulled, now that its vertebrae were no longer connected, attempting to behead the beast. It detached slowly; the sound of its skin tearing and shredding. Slick black blood spraying from the wound onto his body. He slung his neck, throwing it off into the distance. It’s lifeless body slumped onto the ground, and he was able to turn his attention back to the now dying beast.

 

                       He gripped its neck in his jaws, tearing it from it’s body like the other. Throwing its head into the distance, successfully ending them. Dean had been told if he killed them, they would stay dead. He didn’t know how this was, or how it worked, but they seemed to know what they were talking about. Despite the fact that they were dead, Dean wasn’t satisfied. He wanted them gone, completely. He wanted to keep killing and maiming…It was strong in him, the desire to kill and maim. He sunk his teeth into its body, tearing into it and taking its putrid flesh in his mouth. It was disgusting, but he hungered for it. He devoured parts of their bodies, leaving shreds of them behind when he decided he could no longer consume their rotted flesh. There was a blackness dripping from his maw, onto the corpses of the dead.

 

                       When his head was clearer, he realized there must be more. He needed to kill as much as he could find, and then report back. Hopefully, this would be the end. Hopefully he could kill all of them, and go home. Yes…home; he needed to visit again. With this thought in mind, he hunted. He circled the forests, following their paths of destruction and finding them destroying what they could. Neighboring villages, people, animals… These things were menaces; killing everything they felt like. Eating all they could find. An endless hunger that was destroying the world; the Gassagen were right. But Dean hungered for their deaths; he killed nearly 20 until he could find no more of them, despite following every path they had left. The bloodlust he felt diminished when he realized there was nothing left to kill.

 

                       With that notion, he decided it was best to visit his village. This was, more than likely, a terrible idea, but Dean felt like he could hold his own with the other villagers if they decided to attack. Hopefully explaining would help, but if it came to it, he could at least knock them unconscious and visit his brother and children.

 

                       The village was mostly empty when he got there; a few of them scattered when he landed, still in his dragon form, to their remaining homes. It seemed that they had gotten scared with the recent apocalyptic conditions. Found it best not to fight anymore when they did all they could to keep surviving. He changed back to his humanoid form, and pushed into the house. It was a little messy. There were streaks of blood unwashed from the floor, and various dishes stacked on the table. Papers lying where they were left; research. What little information they had. Sam was trying to stop this, but it seemed things had gone a little to hell since he’d left. Was he still alive…?

 

                       Dean got his answer when the man came rushing out of a nearby room, sword held in his hand and ready to fight. Dean held up his hands, showing surrender.

“Sam, it’s me!”

Sam dropped his sword in shock, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Dean…where have you been?! What happened to you?!”

“Long story, Sammy, just…tell me everything’s alright. I can’t stay, but I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll fix this. I’ll get us out of here if I have to…”

“Well, it’s not entirely alright. They keep coming back and destroying the village, day by day. I don’t know how much longer we can hold out…The eggs are still there. Not hatched, but they haven’t rotted…I’m no expert on these things.”

“Alright, good…Look, I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay? I’ll fix this, I swear. Apparently I’m the only one who can…That’s why I’m…this thing, now.”

“Is that reversible?”

“Doubtfully… I guess I’m stuck like this. Gonna make life a little hard, most likely...But look, I’ve killed them all, Sam. I’ve gotten every single one I can find. I think they’re dead now… Hopefully, everything’s fixed. I’ll be back. Take good care of my babies, okay?”

“You’re going again?”

“I have to…They told me to come back.”

“You sound whipped by these dragons…” Sam mumbled. “You used to hunt them, and now you are one.”

“Look, this isn’t my fault, okay?! I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to become some great savior of the Earth, or turn into something that’s less than human. Just trust me Sammy, please.”

“Alright…Go. I’ll keep an eye on things. Make sure our house doesn’t get demolished.”

“Good. And uh, you’re kinda letting the place go.”

“Well it’s hard to think about being tidy when your life is at stake every day. I never know when one of those fuckers is going to attack this house, next. They get one every day. Pretty soon, if they’re not dead by now, there’s not going to _be_ a village.”

“Like I said, I’ll fix this.”

 

                       Sam nodded to him, and then Dean was off. He was somewhat lost at first, looking for Oadriax, but it was unmistakable when he finally did find it. How many floating cities could there be…?

When Dean landed, Estalia was already waiting for him.

“You have been successful, I take it?”

“Yeah. They’re dead. Can I go home now?”

“No, not yet…” Estalia said, walking forward and beckoning him to follow. Dean began to follow the dragon, winding through the cities and bridges until they were there at their temporary home. “You see, destroying those now present is just the beginning. It was necessary that those still walking the Earth were killed, to prevent casualties. It will take some time for them to recover, but the seal that kept them imprisoned is still broken. It cannot be rewritten, like a mere spell or talisman. It requires advanced magic…Which is where the second phase of our plan comes in,” Estalia said, opening the door to their home.

 

                       The dragon walked forward, so that the both of them were in the doorway. Castiel, at the moment, was absent, and Dean vaguely wondered where he was, until Estalia started speaking again.

“To seal them again, they must be eradicated, and then the magic must be performed again. It will take several months for them to return. They are, in a way, connected. When they suffer such loss, their entire being is wounded, and they are at this moment, too weak to continue to surface. They must regain their strength. Must like an army that has lost many men… So, Dean, this is where you come in. Both you, and Castiel.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going…”Dean said defensively.

“I was afraid of that. But I’m afraid there’s not much choice on the matter. You’re ours now, until you’ve fixed the mess you started.”

 

                       Before Dean could retort, Estalia pushed him into the doorway, slamming it shut with such force it sent Dean toppling to the floor. Dean was on his feet again, struggling to open the door, but found it was locked. He banged on the thing for several minutes, trying to splinter it’s wood or destroy it, but it was impenetrable.

“Let me out of here, you son of a bitch!”

“Oh, calm down, this is hardly the worst thing that’s happened to you, Winchester. You’ll find that it is not only this door you cannot exit; you are trapped here. You will do what is right, or else.”

“Fuck you! Let me out!”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

 

                       Dean slammed his fists into the door one more time in desperation, until he fell to the ground in defeat, heaving with anger and exertion. They lied to him…How long had they lied to him? Kept the truth of what was really going on? What if Castiel was in on this…? No, he couldn’t see that as being true.

 

                       Dean was panicked; he said he’d be back. He said he’d fix this and be back, and yet here he was, trapped in this house, however magnificent it was… He needed to find a way to get back home. To his brother, and his children, and he needed to get Castiel out of this as well. If it’s war they want, it’s war they’ll get…

 

ART:

 

Dean's dragon form:

 

 

**STAY TUNED FOR:**

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


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